New Connections
by cloogle
Summary: This is the episode side to Happy Agony. Faberry is the new Finchel. Promise you'll laugh... lots of Sue. Quinn wasn't Lucy and is a Cheerio. Santana has not been outed and is not a Cheerio. Sue hates Glee. Kurt never left McKinley. Set post Rocky Horror. For those days when Real!Glee is pissing you off. Three episodes written.
1. Uninvited

**Title:** Uninvited  
**Author:** Claire G  
**Pairing:** Rachel/Quinn +plenty of others  
**Word count:** 18,033 in total  
**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters are the property of Fox. No infringement intended.  
**Plot:** Let's pretend we've had several episodes where Rachel and Quinn have been fighting with lots of subtexty loveliness. Quinn and Sam are no longer together and pretty much everyone is single. Tensions rise when Mercedes' birthday party goes awry. Rachel leaves Glee Club and Quinn processes her feelings. Basically it's a Faberry-orientated episode and I hope it's fun and funny! I wanted to get them together in the traditional Glee way.  
**Note:**Written before 'Never Been Kissed', but is set any time after Rocky Horror.  
**Songs featured:** Madonna - Sorry, Usher - DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love, Elkie Brooks - Don't Cry Out Loud, Rascal Flatts - My Wish, Ashley Tisdale - Tell Me Lies

* * *

[So here's what you missed last week.]

[Sue created a new line of Cheerios merchandise and food product line.]

"Care for a nibble on my cherry pie, Will? Or we do a nice line in man-bags."

[Tina and Mike broke up due to artistic differences.]

"I am _not_ emo." Tina slammed the door in Mike's face.

"Goth-vamp-rock-nerd-steam...punk?" he whined.

The door reopened. "Okay, a little emo, but we're still over."

[Artie sought advice on his love life.]

"Miss Pillsbury, this has been a useful conversation, but can we talk about my issues now?

[Rachel and Quinn had a face off and aren't talking to each other.]

"Perfect hair, perfect smile... perfect _bitch_." Rachel looked Quinn up and down with disdain.

"No wonder your mother didn't want you. "

Rachel let her hand fly out and slapped Quinn clean across the cheek. "Of all people in this school, Quinn, you should know better."

[And that's what you missed on Glee.]

* * *

[Monday]

"Salutations," Sue hailed cheerily as she entered the Principal's office, nudging the door shut with a hip swing. "Welcome to a bright today. Please be sure to remove all footwear before entering the temple 'o' me." She cast her hands down her pale blue tracksuit with lime trim, and sat down in a free chair opposite Figgins' desk.

"Well hello, Sue. You seem to be in a good mood." Figgins looked up, sliding a booklet detailing 'Overcoming Your Fear of Tall Women' underneath a set of reports.

Sue leaned in to jauntily rest her knuckles beneath her chin, and spoke through the side of her mouth, eyes shifty. "Well, Figgy, I am. The birds are singing, and one little bird may not be singing for much longer." She winked and Figgins' right eye twitched, struggling not to reciprocate.

He held onto a corner of the booklet to keep his strength as he spoke. "If this is another complaint about the pigeons in the gym roof, then we have already discussed this, Sue. We simply can _not_ capture and remove their heads to place on spikes in order to frighten rival schools. The PTA turned you down based on a failed risk assessment. Too much blood."

"No, no, no," she shook her head vigorously. "Though I do have a new plan involving disembodied limbs from dissection class, and a billboard display along the lines of that wonderful moral series of documentaries 'Saw'."

He sniffed. "Well, we'll cross that bridge -"

"Billboard," Sue interrupted with a snap of her fingers and a laugh.

"Please... the point?" Figgins requested, drawing himself up and puffing his chest out broadly, as per the instructions he'd read earlier.

"Don't do that," she scolded. "A turkey attacked me once and it brings out the beast in me. So if you don't want to have your clawed foot rammed down your beaky throat then please exhale." A sorry-looking Figgins slumped back down into his seat with a sigh. "Now listen carefully -" Sue continued "- and I will tell all." She leaned over again, even more conspiratorially than before. "Now, I just heard a very intriguing conversation between the school nurse and a pupil. It would seem that Miss Rachel Berry has been denied a large quantity of sleeping tablets."

"What?" Will Schuester, also seated opposite Figgins, blurted with a frown.

"Oh, hey there, Schue-shine," Sue smirked. "Didn't see your ethereal yet stocky frame; must've been the vapid expression on your forgettable face." Before anyone could reply, she jumped back in. "Why are you always in here anyway? Shouldn't you get back to your minions in Shop class, or have you left them with an equally uninspiring cardboard cutout of yourself?"

"Spanish, Sue. I teach Spanish," Will dismissed with a half-bemused smile on his lips.

"Oh I forgot. Sure. Shop... what was I thinking? Far too many splinters." She nodded to herself. "Where would we be if we let you damage those precious, ivory-tinkling digits?" She turned back to the Principal and winked again. "I'll tell ya: heaven."

"Why are you listening in on conversations with the nurse, Sue? It is not and never has been part of our policy..." Figgins began.

Sue held her hand to her chest. "It's not my fault that my office has a direct ventilation link to the Nurse's office, now is it? Nor that my predecessor, may he rest in peace, had set up a motion-activated monitoring system to feed his desires to hear teenagers describe their more _intimate_ issues. Can I help it if the recording panel is directly beside my wall-mounted, vibrating, abdomen-blasting belt? And my over-worked, loudspeaker finger is liable to slip once in a while. Come on, don't both look at me like I'm inhuman."

"One in three medical experts agrees," Will coughed into his hand and smirked.

Sue sneered at Will and turned back to Figgins. "Besides, after the Fabray furor, I need to know if any of my Cheerios are suffering."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Sue," Figgins commented genuinely.

She tapped her head. "Well that's me. Always a hundred sparking neurons ahead of the competition. If any more of my girls show signs of being infected with a human pupa, I'll be right in there with a knitting needle and a cauterizing iron." She made a jabbing motion in the air.

Will's mouth opened in disbelief. "Sue... you can't."

"Hey, hey," she shrugged. "I'm not a monster. I'd get them to sign an agreement first. And they get half a twinkie after."

"You've got to let these kids live their lives." Will cupped his hands out in front of him in a begging gesture. "Guiding is one thing, but controlling..."

"Oh come on, Dr Phil. You know as well as I do, these kids need to be boxed, labeled and filed. I've got Brittany tagged for her own good."

"Tagged for what?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Electronically tagged. If she has an independent thought, I get a message on my iPhone." She pulled it out of her pocket. "See, great little app."

"That's ridiculous."

"Oh, there's one coming in now. Look, she's considering whether to eat nachos or a banana." Sue raised the phone to her mouth. "Banana, Brittany. Banana. Man, I tell you, the positions that girl can bend into would terrify Japanese acrobats. I need to make a note to insure her tendons; they're as vital in the success of the Cheerios, as Dolly Parton's breasts are to the survival of country and western music," she mused, pocketing her phone.

"Back to the point, Sue?" Figgins blinked and tugged on his jacket uncomfortably.

"Simple, I think Glee Club's little Anne Frank with attitude has got a case of the eeyores." Sue dragged her fingers down her cheeks. "I for one think she's going to do the honorable thing. Saving us all the pain of having to exist in a world which has her in it."

"Oh come on, Sue," Will dismissed with small chuckle.

"Hey, you know me. I jest, but I care. Just like that legendary entertainer -" she held her palm to her chest "- Jesus. I'm just giving you the old heads up before your little starlet goes Judy Garland on you. You should be _thanking_ me. "

"But Rachel isn't like that. If she ever felt down, she'd come to me," Will assured. "Sure she's had some rough times, but Glee Club has always got her through."

Sue gave him a look like he was roadkill that she needed to scrape off her shoe. "If all I had to fall back on were a set of utterly repugnant, maladjusted misfits, and a man who frankly has less charisma than a sun-mutated thrift store Ken doll, I'd seriously be considering committing suppuku: the Samurai ritual of self disembowelment." Will rolled his eyes at her. "Anyway, I clearly interrupted your little love-in with our sage leader, so why _are_ you here, Schuester? Pray continue."

"I'll answer that one, Sue." Figgins intercepted Will's need to reply. "It would seem that the Glee Club staged a party in the practice room on Friday night; things got out of hand and the piano was badly damaged." He shook his head. "Not good, Will."

"Oh wow, William." Sue shook her head. "Some great guidance skills you have there, bud." She stood up and slapped Will hard on the back before leaving. "Oh, and you know where I am if you need an extra pallbearer."

* * *

"Hey, Finn, hold up," Will called down the corridor as he trotted up to the lockers.

Finn swung his bag to the floor and turned, a look of slight despair on his face. "Oh God, Mr Schue, I'm so sorry for what happened. We're totally gonna get the money together to pay for the repairs. It was all really stupid. Just don't blame Rachel; it wasn't her fault. We all owe her an apology for what happened." He nervously scratched at the back of his head. "I feel really guilty. I promise you, we didn't do it intentionally to hurt her, it's just that since we broke up, she's been on kind of a downer on me."

"Whoa," Will put his hand up. "Hurt her? What do you mean you feel guilty?"

"I didn't invite her to the party. No one invited her, Mr S. But she found out somehow and turned up. Seemed pretty pissed at us all too. And I feel bad. Just cause we're not together, doesn't mean I don't care, you know what I mean?" Quinn sauntered past and Finn looked at her sorrowfully, part of his heart still belonged to her too. "Jeez, I need someone new to center my attention on." He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, perusing the school's female population for likely candidates.

"Yeah, I understand," Will sighed, squeezing Finn's shoulder. Emma waltzed past clutching a new set of laminated guides on 'Love yourself! It's okay!' He suddenly looked equally forlorn. "Me too. Look I'm gonna get Miss Pillsbury to talk to Rachel. I'm a little worried about her state of mind."

"Miss Pillsbury's state of mind?" Finn asked innocently.

"No, Finn. Rachel's."

"I don't mean to to dismiss the seriousness of this, but this isn't the first time Rachel 's been excluded."

"No reason to let it happen though, Finn. "

Unaware anyone was listening in, Will left a perplexed Finn to get to class and sped off down the corridor. From behind the open locker door, Quinn bit her lip, looked at her shoes and hugged her books to her chest.

* * *

"You see, Miss Pillsbury, this is where things get hard when you have two dads," Rachel explained, a deep frown gracing her forehead.

Emma coughed delicately, clasped her hands on the table and tilted her head to one side in a gesture of openness. "Yes, I can see how it might be difficult. Sometimes people have inbuilt prejudices -"

"No. I don't mean that," Rachel sighed, twisting a hexagonal button on her pale cardigan.

"Not having a woman around to discuss all those little feminine issues?"

"I'm not sure if someone told you, but there are things called computers, and a wonderful resource called the int-er-net."

"Rachel," Emma exclaimed, pursing her lips and looking deeply offended. "Please don't patronize me. I'm here to help you."

"Sorry," Rachel pouted and glumly began to scan the pictures hanging around the room. Her attention was caught by a poster of the Cookie Monster bearing the slogan 'Take rickets seriously!' "I can't sleep, like, at all. I've tossed and turned for the last three nights. The dark circles around my eyes are so bad, I've taken to wearing concealer reserved for puchase by junkies and funeral parlor cosmetologists."

"Oh dear. So... you'd like a mom to talk to?"

"I have a mom. She just isn't... around. That's the problem. If she were there, I could steal Valium from her, like all the other kids do with their moms."

"Rachel, please don't say things like that." Emma tutted, eyes wide. "Do... do kids really do that?" Emma pressed at her cheekbones. "Don't answer that."

"I wish Mr Schuester's wife -"

"Ex-wife," Emma attempted to correct.

Rachel continued unabated: "- had continued as school nurse; she'd have given me the pills. She understood emotional pain, even if she was a little crazy."

"Pills, you see, Rachel... we have to be very careful because -"

"All I want, is a night's sleep. A whole one. That's why I need those sleeping pills."

"Oh well... yes." Emma cheered up a little, much relieved.

"This school's treatment of my current situation is beyond ridiculous." Rachel stabbed at the desk with her fingertip. "If you all recognized how important my teenage life is to my career, you'd understand."

Emma swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Well Terri, I'm sure she would have -"

"You know, I really have no idea why I've been sent here. I have a therapist, you know. He's the best in Ohio and I've been visiting him since I was five."

"Well. Golly. It's good to talk with all sorts of people. Your parents, your friends, your teachers, your... therapist." Emma blinked rapidly. "We're all here to care for your well-being."

"Ha," said Rachel without a hint of humor.

"Pardon me? "

"I said 'Ha.' Friends." Rachel pushed out her bottom lip and crossed her arms. "The only person I can rely on is myself. The only thing I can control in life is me, and right now I don't even know what's happening to that. I'm in such turmoil." She threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Everything I do now affects my future. Every day in which I deviate from my life plan, is a day lost."

"Life plan, huh? That's very... organized. But I do believe a little spontaneity can be life enriching," Emma said softly, subconsciously ordering herself to make a different sandwich for her next lunch pack.

"I had a milkshake on Saturday... a milkshake! With _real_ milk in it."

"I'm sure the cows will forgive you," Emma offered, a little uncertain as to the right way to reassure a vegan who has fallen off the wagon.

"I don't think you understand how serious this is. I mean, do you? I don't suppose you ever could, not having ever aspired to become more important than an... office worker."

Emma stood up from her chair, a blaze of anger across her face . "Rachel!" She bit her tongue. "I think you should come back when you're in a more receptive mood. "

"Fine." Rachel rose to her feet, her stern expression causing Emma's left eye to twitch. "Maybe never then."

* * *

Rachel let out a deep sigh, drawing undue attention and inviting her extra credit French teacher to rap her knuckles on the board. "Miss Berry, will you please pay attention. This is not like you at all."

A pout on her lips, Rachel replied: "Je suis désolée."

"Merci, Rachel."

"Lo siento," she added quietly, eyes half-lidded.

"I believe you'll find that is Spanish," said the teacher, causing the rest of the class to snicker.

"Ik ben droevig."

"Are you doing this to be funny? Because I do not find this remotely amusing." The teacher remained stoney-faced, while the rest of the class fell about laughing.

"Sono spiacente." Rachel continued, her expression almost trance-like.

"That's it. Go to the Principal's office."

"Perdóname," continued Rachel, her lip curling as she became more visibly disgruntled.

"Now."

Rachel left the room in a hurry, looping her satchel over her head and marching down the hallway, with no intention whatsoever of visiting Principal Figgins. Steadily, she gained speed and, with a running step, headed towards the library, the steady beat of her footsteps sounding a rhythm in her head. "I've heard it all before, I've heard it all before," she shouted to a few startled students. "I've heard it all before. I've heard it all before. I've heard it all before. I've heard it all before. "

"No running in the corridors," one of the hall monitors called after her.

"I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know." Speech became song. "Please don't say you're sorry. I've heard it all before. And I... can take care of myself. I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know." She tumbled into the library and turned to the woman at the desk. "Please don't say 'Forgive me'."

"Shh," the librarian scolded.

"I've seen it all before. And I... can't take it anymore." Rachel picked up the most recent yearbook and flicked to the Glee Club page. Her eyes centered on the group shot and she clutched her fists tight. "You're not half the man you think you are. Save your words because you've gone too far. I've listened to your lies and all your stories." She glanced over the faces of her friends. "You're not half the woman you'd like to be." Her eyes darkened and she grabbed the nearest marker to deface the group shot. "I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know. Please don't say you're sorry. I've heard it all before, and I... can take care of myself." Two teachers approached to quash her behavior. Rachel rose, tore a clump of pages from the yearbook and threw them in the air above her head. Pages fluttered and fell around her.

Striding out, she headed for the practice room. "I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know." She held her ears in her hands, blocking out the sounds of people calling for her attention. "Please don't say 'Forgive me'. I've seen it all before, and I... can't take it anymore." Closing the door behind her she looked at the piano, one side of which had been smashed into the wall, just a few nights before. She lifted the lid and ran her fingers over the keys. "Don't explain yourself 'cause talk is cheap. There's more important things than hearing you speak. You stayed because I made it so convenient. Don't explain yourself, you'll never see." With a large sigh, Rachel sank down onto a chair. "Gomen nasais. Mujhe maaf kardo. Przepraszam. Sli'kha. Forgive me..."

Finn and Santana stood at the door, gazing through the glass panel. "This is worse than I thought; she's started speaking in tongues," said Finn with concern.

Santana jabbed him with her fist. "It's Madonna, moron."

"Well either way, I don't think she's gonna accept a simple sorry." Together they watched Rachel as she descended into tears.

* * *

All the Glee Club members, save for Rachel, gathered in the practice room, bustling nervously into their seats to await their punishment. The wheels of Artie's chair squeaked as his hands rocked back and forth on the tyres in nervous anticipation.

"Hey, guys. I'm sure you know I've called you all here about Friday night." Will pressed his knuckle to his lips, deep in thought. "I don't know..." He shook his head. "I think you know how disappointed I am in you."

Everyone hung their heads in shame. Kurt looked around at the series of sheepish faces, raised his hand and decided to speak up. "Mr Schue? If I may?"

"Yes, Kurt."

Kurt swallowed and got to his feet, stroked a wrinkle from his slim red tie, and coughed daintily. "I think you know how sorry we all are. As spokesperson for the group, I wanted to say that we apologize profusely for the events that transpired." Everyone nodded as he spoke. "We had intended the evening to be a small, quiet affair in celebration of Mercedes' birthday. Since we had no money, are all underage, and without any parent-free homes, we made the foolhardy decision to use this room. But I promise you, had the electricity not blown, no damage would have been done. It was an accident."

"Accident or not, you came on school grounds without authorization. I can't believe how irresponsible you all were." Will trailed his hands through his hair and shook his head with dismay. "What if there had been a fire?"

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Might've been a good thing. These chicks get colder by the second." Quinn shot him a disgusted look and he shrugged in response.

Mercedes looked up . "I'm really sorry, Mr Schue . The guys were just trying to do something nice for me. It's been a hard year for me and my mom; they just wanted to make me feel better. We know we did wrong and we will make it up to you. Won't we?" There was a general mutter of agreement as she looked around the room.

"Thank you, Kurt, Mercedes." Will sat down on the closest stool and took a heavy breath. "You know if this were up to me, I'd let you off with just paying the money, but Principal Figgins thinks you owe the school a little more." He put his hand up as the murmurs of discontentment began. "But it's not too bad. All you have to do is clean the garbage from under the bleachers."

Quinn looked horrified. "Oh my God, no, Mr Schuester. We can't." Her plea was backed by a chorus of nuh-uhs and no-ways.

"What's so wrong? When I attended school here the bleachers where always, y'know, a make out point." Will grinned. "It couldn't be more than a few soda cups and little trash."

Finn shook his head. "Not anymore Mr Schue, not since the Principal refused to pay extra for the janitor to clear after each game."

"Have you ever seen 'The Blob'?" Tina asked, wincing.

"I'm well aware of horror that lies beneath the seats," Artie spoke up, pushing his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. "Having been rolled into the slurry of hot dogs and burritos many times."

"Sorry about that, dude," Puck apologized with mild sincerety, causing Artie to look timid and a little embarrassed.

"Well I for one will _not_ be helping," Santana said with a grimace. "I'll get my dad to pay for someone to do it for me."

Will rubbed at his forehead and inhaled deeply. "Won't cut it, I'm afraid. You do it as a team, or two days' suspension for all of you."

"Excuse me." Quinn raised a hand and spoke over the sounds of grumbling.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"Why the hell isn't Rachel here?" she asked abruptly. "Why would she get special treatment?"

"Well..."

"I asked Mr Schuester not to include her," Finn interrupted. "We all know that we didn't ask Rachel to the party. None of this was her idea."

"I feel bad too," muttered Mercedes.

"Are you serious?" shouted Tina, getting to her feet. "She's been really overbearing lately."

"Come on, guys," Will frowned. "Rachel's not that bad. Admittedly a little demanding, but -"

Quinn put her hands on her knees and leaned forward. "Well someone must have invited her, or she wouldn't have been there. And for all we know it could have been her that slammed the piano into the wall."

Will looked confused. "You mean you don't even know what happened? "

"It's all a beautiful blur." Puck closed his eyes, grinned and hugged himself.

"I think you all are going to have to take me through the night," Will said, pointing over his shoulders with his thumbs.

"Oh, yay, flashback," said Brittany, bouncing on her chair.

Will smiled and looked at the floor. "Heh. Yeah, just like Wayne's World." He waved his hands in front of his face. "Doodl-oodl-oo, doodl-oodl-oo." He stopped abruptly when he noticed that everyone was staring at him. "Party time? Excellent?" he asked hopefully.

"Are you okay, Mr Schue?" asked Artie, biting his cheek to prevent himself from laughing. "Is this like a Vietnam thing, but for your generation?"

"Yeah, PTED: Post Traumatic Eighties Disorder," Sam interjected.

"Hey. Don't make me feel old. Besides, Wayne's World came out in theaters in about 1990," Will said, with a note of victory and a semi bow.

"None of us were born then," said Mercedes with a touch of concern in her voice. "But it's okay, you're our teacher, technically it would be a problem if you were as young as us."

"You'd steal all the male leads for one," smirked Kurt.

Will jabbed the air with his finger. "Touché."

"Are we in the past yet?" asked Brittany innocently.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "I'll start. It all began that morning when Kurt and I were getting our books..."

* * *

[Flash to Friday]

"Oh God, she's coming. Why do you have to be gay? I coulda kissed you as a means of distraction." Mercedes scowled, elbowing Kurt in the ribs.

"Ow. Apologies for not being available for locker whoredom for the sake of avoiding Rachel Berry." Kurt adjusted his hair and pouted, watching Rachel striding directly towards them.

"Great, now she's got eye contact." Mercedes forced a smile and spoke through her teeth. "Now remember, don't mention tonight, I want a carefree... Hey, Rachel! "

"Good morning, Mercedes, Kurt." Rachel beamed. "I'm glad I caught you because I know it's Mercedes' birthday, and -"

Mercedes cut her off. "Sorry, Rachel, we've got to get to, uh, to class."

"But you have a free period. We all do."

"Uh. Well, what Mercedes means by class, Rachel, is _class_." Kurt made speech marks with his fingers and bobbed down on his knees a little like he was talking to a child.

Rachel winked heavily. "So you're going off grounds. I could do that. Every star must have their stories of rebel times; it's very important for the memoirs I'm constantly compiling. What's the plan? Where are you going?" She looked wistful. "To sneak into the back of a movie theater without paying?"

"No, Rachel, because we've passed puberty," Kurt dismissed. "Or at least -" he looked her up and down "- I have. You may have a little more growing in you."

"Um, go to Carmel High and put a cherry bomb in the lavatories?" she offered.

"Girl, you're twisted. Retro twisted." Mercedes looked at Rachel like she had three heads.

"Oh, oh, I know. We could go to an underground club, dress as rap artists, crash the stage and start impromtu beatboxing. At first the audience shuns us, but soon they come to realize that we are truly great, and the crescendo of applause will begin."

"I'm not sure exactly how many _underground_ clubs we have in Lima, let alone ones that would let us in, _and_ that would be open at ten _a_m," Mercedes said, hands on hips. "And besides, Rachel, you're about as gangsta as a floppy-eared bunny rabbit wearin' a pink vest and prank store, goggle-eyed glasses."

Kurt was a little wide-eyed, his mouth agape. "Rap? Beatbox?"

"I am very well versed in many forms of singing technique. It pays to know these things." Rachel began counting on her fingers. "Scat, yodelling..."

"Hey look, Finn's calling for you," Kurt said suddenly, cutting Rachel off by pointing directly over her shoulder.

She turned but was unable to see Finn, or anyone else she knew for that matter. "I..." But Mercedes and Kurt had walked away. "I have something to give you, Mercedes," she called out. They didn't look back.

* * *

Puck, Finn and Sam trailed into the changing rooms, pulled off their helmets and sat down heavily on the benches.

"This is not right; at least one of us should still be going steady with Quinn. Or any cheerleader. Or any girl. We've got to get back in the game," Puck squinted, like he was forming a plan.

"I just wanna date someone who thinks I'm okay as I am." Finn hung his head.

Sam patted him on the back. "Nice idea, but I think you might have to wait 'til we leave school for that kind of relationship."

"Sam's right, Finn. Now is all about the conquering."

"Well I didn't say exactly that."

"And we have to use tonight as a way back into the ladies' hearts," Puck continued.

"So what do we do? Draw names out of a hat? Seems a little cold." Finn rubbed his face and tried to work out whose name he'd like to see pulled out.

"No," Puck was very definite on this. "We let _them_ come to _us_."

"This will fail entirely," Sam retorted, just as definitely but with an added chuckle.

"Dude, no. This is going to be immense. I'm tired of chasing tail; I want it just to roll on home to papa. We'll play it cool and save our energies for other things." He winked. "Deal?"

"Fneh," murmured Finn.

"Guess," said Sam, non-commitally.

Puck glared. "Jesus. How do I have such dweebs as my wing men? It's all or nothing, guys. I'll ask again: deal?"

"Deal," they echoed with more enthusiasm.

"And Finn, that means no dancing like a tarantula. Sam, that means no smiling like a teradactyl."

"Hey," they both protested loudly.

"Hello?" Rachel's voice echoed around the room, causing the boys to turn their heads and look with trepidation towards the sound.

"Oh God, hide me," said Finn, panic-stricken. "We said not to mention to Rachel about tonight, and she can read me like a book. I can't help it. I blurt truths in front of her. I think she used to hypnotize me when we were together."

"Hide?" Puck looked dismayed. "Finn, dude, you're wearing half a ton of plastic and padding: what do you want me to do, get out my lighter and melt you into one of the lockers? Just let me deal, okay?" Footsteps approached but stopped when Puck shouted out: "No place for a girl, Rachel. There's all kinds of things in here that would damage your delicate sensibilities."

"Okay," she replied, tapping her shoe impatiently.

Finn nodded with approval, almost impressed. "Nice."

"But if you want some manly sweat time," Puck added. "I have a slot free at four. Want me to slide you in?"

Finn's expression dropped. "Not cool."

"Oh come on, she'd think it was weird if I didn't say something like that," he explained in a whisper.

"No, thank you, Noah," Rachel politely called back from the doorway. "Have you seen Mercedes? I thought she and Kurt might be boy watching or something."

"Sure as hell hope not," Puck said, looking a little perturbed, while Finn glanced around the room for hidden cameras.

"Is Finn there?" she asked.

The response was so fast as to be almost innate: "Yea-," Finn began. Puck and Sam dived, knocking him to the ground, landing on top of his chest and consequently winding him. "Told you," he said through a strained breath. "Nice tackle."

"Everything okay in there? Should I come in?"

"No, Rachel. I just knocked a _dumb_bell off the bench." Puck sneered and pulled himself off Finn and Sam, who were left in an awkward embrace. They all scrambled away from each other. "Uh, Rachel, I think Schuester was looking for you earlier, something about needing your expert ear and choosing some tune or other."

"Oh, thank you." Rachel scurried away.

"I feel bad for her." Finn screwed his face up.

"Do you ever not feel bad?" asked Puck. "I mean, really? Get over it. I've seen bigger smiles on Droopy Dog."

Sam reached over to pat Finn's chest. "If you want to get romantic, you can't do it under the watchful eyes of your ex."

"But Quinn will be there too." Finn thrust his hands out in a begging motion.

"Uh huh." Puck raised his eyebrows. "But there's no party without Quinn. She's like the goal at the end of our field. One of us has to score."

"There's no way she's gonna come crawling back to any of us." Finn rubbed at his face roughly.

"Do either of you think it's a little weird that Quinn has dated all of three of us?" asked Sam with genuine curiosity.

"No," Finn and Puck replied, a little bemused. "We're on the football team."

"Technically, I think I'm next in line to date Rachel," Sam smiled widely.

"No," Finn and Puck replied, with harsh glares.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Mr Schuester?" Rachel knocked on the open door to Will's office.

"Uh, no?" Will smiled and winced at the same time. He received a dejected look and so added: "But I'm always happy when I do."

A smile twitched at the corner of Rachel's mouth. "If you see Mercedes, will you tell her I'm looking for her?"

"Sure, no problem." Will looked back down at his work, but noticed, out of the corner of his eye, one of Rachel's shoes scuffing the floor nervously. "I bet someone else will know where she is. Maybe Kurt, Quinn?"

"Wherever I approach, they hurry away." Rachel bit on her lower lip. "Brittany even put her lunch bag over her head." A perplexed Will shook his head, so she went on to explain. "She thought if she couldn't see me, I wouldn't be able to see her." Rachel sighed deeply and looked contemplative. "Have I done something wrong again? I have a habit of treading on people's toes and not noticing." Will went to speak but she cut him off. "I know that people can get jealous of true talent; it can be hard for them. I'm gracious enough to realize that."

"Well... that's good, Rachel. It's always good to be humble." He clasped his hands together. "Look, I know that there have been a few problems in the group, what with you and Finn breaking up, and the fact that you and Quinn insist on being at least five yards away from each other at all times. Which, can I say, makes dance routines _incredibly_ hard to work out."

"Not really; I stay at the front, she stays at the back. Simple."

"Rachel," Will chided. "Whatever is wrong will have no doubt blown over by Monday, okay?" He smiled reassuringly. "But, Rachel..."

"Yes, Mr Schue?"

"High school doesn't last forever. Make the years good ones; don't hold grudges. Sort out this animosity with Quinn."

"Yes, Mr Schue."

* * *

"Britt, you do realize that you don't have to wear your uniform all the time?" Santana, who was wearing a fairly slutty black dress, looked Brittany up and down with disdain and moderate disappointment.

"My brain itches if I try to take it off. Sometimes I wear it into the shower, but then... you'd know that," Brittany said with a happy shoulder shrug.

"Yeah." Santana smirked before fluttering her eyelashes and grabbing Brittany by the hand to drag her into the newly converted, sultry Glee Club practice room.

"Hey, ladies," Mercedes shouted excitedly over the noise of the thrumming music, as they offloaded presents into her arms. "Wow, Santana, so generous."

"Not really; it's a heap of junk from the bottom of my closet," muttered Santana, glancing over Mercedes' shoulder at the décor.

"It's from the both of us," added Brittany, smiling inanely.

"Well it's very nicely wrapped."

"I have people," Santana said without a hint of warmth.

"Glad you could make it," Mercedes said with a happy shrug. "As you can see, Kurt has done a damn fine job diva-ing the place up."

"Nothing but the finest glitz and glam for my girls." Kurt guided them into the room. "We have music, we have lights, we have a range of delicious finger foods, and Puck has provided the, uh, well I suppose you could call it 'drink'. I have my doubts."

"Hey-" Puck spoke up "- that's Canada's finest right there, imported in the hollowed out seats of my cousin's Hummer. No one could say that we Puckerman men don't come through with the goods." He plunged his hands deep into his jeans pockets. "I also bribed the night security ten bucks to let us in. For some reason he said that meant his children could have Christmas this year."

"Yo, people, the axeman cometh," Artie called out as he wheeled his way through the door and skidded to a stop by Mercedes. Grabbing her hand, he kissed the back of it and proffered to her a gift-bagged present.

"Thank you, Artie . You may look like a pasty-faced teenage nerd, but I know that you truly have the soul of a forty year old, tormented black man."

"I hope that earns me a dance with the birthday girl," he grinned.

"Always," Mercedes said as she pushed Artie into a spin.

More guests arrived. "Hey, very nice, Kurt. It almost looks like a real club or something," said Finn, nodding with approval. He leaned over to whisper in Kurt's ear and spoke with uncertainty. "I got Mercedes a card with a puppy on it and an iTunes gift certificate. Will that be okay?"

Kurt patted Finn on the shoulder. "Good boy," he said with al most imperceptible condescension.

* * *

Much later, Quinn weaved her way between the throng of bodies. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she said softly into Mercedes' ear as she pulled her into a hug. "Though it looks like I'm not last to arrive."

"Hey, Quinn," Mercedes spoke merrily over the sound of the music. "No, we're good. This is everyone. Come get a drink."

"What? Rachel's not coming? How could she let you down like this? She knows no bounds."

"Uh, whoa, pull those claws back in, honey. We decided that, since you guys had fallen out, we wouldn't tell her about tonight. The tension between you two has been unbearable. And what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?"

"Oh... I see." Quinn raised an eyebrow and spoke with considered slowness. "A night with no drama; could it really be possible?"

"Come on, girl. If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were disappointed."

"Ha, yeah," Quinn muttered through an unconvincing laugh.

* * *

"Finn, dude. You look like you'd rather be at home in your sweats, eating dry Cap'n Crunch and scratching yourself." Puck crossed his arms and stared at his friend who was brooding in a corner.

"I thought we were supposed to lay low at this thing," Finn said under his breath.

"Yeah, play it cool, not play it dead. Hang out with the men, look tough, look tall... well, you don't need so much help with that. Just act like these girls are totally missing out on a hunka chunka Finnlove, 'kay, bud?"

Finn drew himself up and puffed up his chest. "Like this?"

"Yeah, sorta. Try squinting a little, like you've got a mysterious side," Puck said as he imitated what he was suggesting. Finn attempted to replicate. Puck looked deflated. "Aww, man, you just look like you're giving everyone the stink-eye."

"I'm not cool, it's just not who I am," Finn groaned.

"Try this. You... are James T Kirk. No, you... are James Bond. Yeah. You're British, and you can survive any explosion without even loosing a cufflink. All women want you; you're dangerous, but suave. You're not wearing an old t-shirt that smells like -" he leaned in to sniff Finn's chest "- Marshmallow Peeps; instead you're all suits and aftershave."

Finn smiled crookedly, lost in a new little Finnworld of speedboats and babes in bikinis. "Yeah," he said with a drawn out breath and a nod. Looking a little more confident in himself, he scanned the room and mentally bid the women to approach. Soon someone did.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said Artie as his tyres ceased their roll. Had he been wearing a hat, he would have no doubt doffed it.

Puck rubbed his chin and spoke to Finn out of the side of his mouth. "I think you threw your machismo a little low, dude. Try rack height."

"It never works, you know." Puck and Finn looked at Artie like he was speaking a foreign language. "The standing back thing, I mean. The women won't come to you, because they're quite happy dancing and talking to each other. You have to provide something new. Something they can't give each other."

"I'm not comfortable with you talking about my deep valley pioneer," rebuked Puck, with a scowl and pout.

"I'm not talking about your penis. I'm talking about vulnerable nights, stormy evenings, horror movies. They're drawn to us in such times."

"I'm pretty sure all the girls could beat the crap out of us." Finn winced. "Nothing scares them."

"It's a psychological thing," Artie insisted. "Offer to walk them home. That's what I'm going to do with Tina tonight."

"Why should I take advice from a man who spends his days eye level with my zipper?" asked Puck.

"Because my position also affords me unabashed views of the ladies' behinds?" Artie almost snorted.

"Nice. High five?" Puck held out his palm for Artie to slap. "Down low?" And again. "Up high?" Puck held his hand way above his head. "Never mind," he smirked causing Artie to look suddenly grumpy. "Nice idea, the whole chivalrous thing, but I think I'll stick to wine coolers and dirty looks." Finn and Artie crossed their arms and looked at Puck like disapproving parents. "What?" He threw his hands up. "What? Aw, man, forget you two." He approached the mp3 player and dragged his finger down the list. "Hey, Mercedes, what say you we get some real moves on the floor." Puck scanned through the tracks . "How do you feel about..." A familiar tune began and grew steadily louder, catching people's attention. Puck spoke in an almost whisper. "Usher, Usher, Usher..."

Mercedes threw her hands in the air. "Yeah, man."

"So we back in the club with the bodies rockin' from side to side," Puck sang, hand on heart, while Mike took the lead in the dancing stakes by carrying out the signature moves.

"Side, side to side," everyone chorused, gathering on the dancefloor .

Puck pulled Finn into the circle in time for him to sing: "Thank God the week is done. I feel like a zombie gone back to life."

"Back, back to life." The group clapped along with the beat.

Mercedes chimed in. "Hands up, yeah suddenly we all got our hands up." She slid her hands down her sides then pointed her way around the room, indicating each person in turn. "No control of my body. Ain't I seen you before? I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes."

It quickly became a group affair. They bounced to the music in time, fists in the air, and sang together. "'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again. Yeah, baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again. So dance, dance, like it's the last, last night of your life, life. Gon' get you right. 'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again."

Puck took the lead once again. "Keep downing drinks like there's no tomorrow." He handed Santana a bottle and she glanced at his ass as he spun away. "There's just right now, now, now, now, now, now. Gon' set the roof on fire. Gonna burn this mother down, down, down, down, down, down, down. Hands up, when the music drops, we both put our hands up. Put your hands on my body." Grabbing Quinn's arms, he attempted to put her hands on his hips, but she dismissed his advances and went back to dancing with Brittany and Santana.

Sam stepped up, singing with all his energy. "Swear I seen you before. I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes. 'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again. Yeah, baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again. So dance, dance, like it's the last, last night of your life, life. Gonna get you right. 'Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again."

Artie took over as the center of attention and began to mimic the turning of tables with his gloved hands. "In the cover of the music, get naked baby," he rapped. "I'm sorry chica, better holla at Tyrone. Let him know how I jump through your foot loop. Scolla chico two can. We're from the blocka blocka o polaca. Where the boys get loose like wacka flacka. Oh no, man, it's global." He noticed with a smirk that Tina was watching him. "Was' up, Colale flacka. I wanna be your gyno, not your doctor. Dale abre ahi. Papanicolau, baby." The door flung wide. "Rachel?" Artie frowned.

Sam swiftly strafed his way over to the music player and guided the volume to ten percent.

Finn leaped forward and thrust his hands out . "This isn't what it looks like."

"It's not Mercedes' birthday party?" Rachel asked.

"Oh well, yeah, it is. I thought you'd think it was a secret song practice." Finn looked bashful.

"Please, don't mind me. I only came here for one thing." Rachel strode directly for Mercedes and handed her an envelope.

"Rachel, I..." Mercedes trailed off.

"Just open it, and then I'll leave you be."

Timidly Mercedes pulled out a card and opened it. "Oh my God, Rachel." She stared wide eyed. "Are these real? LL Cool J VIP tickets?"

"My dad is his... fourth cousin, or something. Anyway... I thought you might appreciate them."

Mercedes lunged forward and gave Rachel a hug that compressed the air out of her lungs. After a second and a small, prompting cough, she let go. "Rachel... I'm really -"

Rachel put her hand up. "It's okay, that was all. Just popped by; didn't mean to kill your fun." She turned on her heel. But, at that moment, the lights blinked off, leaving them all in near pitch blackness on such a moonless night. At least two people screamed.

"Did anyone else just poop their pants?" Sam called into the abject silence.

"Ew," Kurt intoned.

Mike ran out of the room to find the junction box for the lights, while everyone else felt their way around blindly.

"Is everybody okay?" Finn's voice seemed to echo around the room.

"The important thing is not to panic," Artie called out, a waver in his voice. "We'll all be fine. Just have to wait... in the dark, and hope Mike doesn't die in some hideous basement accident, and that the janitor, seeing that the lights are out, doesn't lock us in for the weekend so we wither until the point where we have to eat each other."

"I call Finn," Kurt raised his hand in the darkness.

"Creepy, Kurt." Finn grumbled.

"I once ate an antelope the size of my head." Brittany's voice cut through the uncomfortable moment.

"Cantaloupe," corrected Santana.

Quinn decided it was her time to give her two cents. Hands on hips she announced: "Well, I for one am not standing around here."

"It won't be long; don't be all gripey and womany," Puck admonished.

"Don't be sexist, Noah," Rachel said with a sigh.

"Shut up, Rachel," Quinn spat back.

"Anyone know any urban legends?" Tina asked keenly, only to be greeted with a cold silence.

Mercedes called out to Sam to turn the music up. He fumbled around and finally obliged. "Now just chill, people. Sit, sleep, whatever, just don't be buggin'. This will all be over before you know it."

A good ten minutes passed with barely a murmur from the group, except for the odd suppressed moan.

"Puck, if that's you, I don't want the lights to come on and find you getting heavy with the baby-making." Mercedes grimaced.

A cell phone began ringing and yet again the screaming started. Kurt stood up. "People," he cried over the clamor. "Stop, or someone will hurt themselves." His words proved to be an almost unfortunate call to arms. Artie's tyres twisted against the polished floor and suddenly everyone seemed to be trying to make a move. Someone's foot caught on the wheelchair and they fell forward, causing a domino effect of people. A loud crack sounded, followed by the distinct sound of piano hammers bouncing.

"Oh, that did not sound good, guys," Tina said with a shakiness to her voice.

A cascade of books fell on Finn's head. "Am I unconscious?" he asked.

Puck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, dude, totally out of it."

"Whoa," Finn breathed.

All the lights came on at once, causing everyone to blink blearily and stare at each other like they'd woken up on a spaceship. They rubbed at their elbows and shins.

It was a moment before they all looked over at the piano, inducing dread amongst the masses. Santana put her hands on her hips and sneered. "You people are fail. I'm outta here. Brittany, heel."

* * *

[Monday]

"So that was it, Mr Schue." Mercedes shrugged.

Brittany raised her hand. "Can I go see the nurse? I have time travel sickness."

"Try putting your head between your knees," Kurt suggested flippantly with a flourish of his finger.

Will spoke, his head lolling to one side as he watched Brittany slump over. "Well... thank you all for helping me piece this puzzle together. I'm afraid all your parents will have to be informed by letter." Everyone groaned. "Hey, it could be worse. I'm glad that you wisely chose not to drink alcohol that night."

"Man, those were totally drunk-making drinks," Puck said, before Finn elbowed him in the side. "Hey, we have a reputation to keep up."

Will shook his head. "I can promise you, they were non-alcoholic. I checked the labels. All mocktails and virgin drinks. Very responsible."

The rest of the group turned and shouted: "Puck!"

* * *

"Quinn?" Will tipped his head into view. "You're late." He drew his fobwatch out of his vest pocket, brought it up to her face, and clicked open the lid to briefly show her the time before tucking it away again.

She blinked. "Sorry, Mr Schuester. I haven't been sleeping at all well."

He nodded slowly then turned to the rest of the Glee Club members, all in matching red coveralls, and clapped his hands together loudly. "Okay, people, pick up your shovels and get that mess cleared. Quinn, follow me. I want you to come and help find Rachel."

"Me, Mr Schue? I'd really rather help everyone else," she uttered breathily, indicating behind her as she struggled to match Will's increasing pace as he strode off underneath the bleachers.

"Why would the head cheerleader rather help clear up junk, than talk to her friend?" Will weaved between the vertical posts which seemed to stretch absurdly far into the distance, almost off the edge of the world.

"Rachel is not my friend."

Will stopped and turned abruptly, causing Quinn to run straight into his chest. He looked directly into her eyes. "You're hers." He set off again, quickly disappearing into the shadows. "Come quick, you're late." As they hurried their journey became darker, the space under the seating seemed to grow smaller and more cramped, creepers hung from the wooden slats and all around were pieces of old furniture from Quinn's childhood.

"This is just... odd. Late for what, Mr Schue?" she called out, her patience fraying as she noticed her shoes and pants were becoming increasingly muddy.

"Don't forget to bend your knees when you land." He spun on the spot and dropped out of sight, like someone had opened a trick hatch in a stage floor.

Quinn turned a full circle. "Mr Schue?" She rubbed at her neck nervously and stepped forward again. "This isn't funny. Where'd you go? I have n-" Blackness swooped down upon her and no sooner did she have the sensation of falling, than she had the feeling of landing. On her behind. On one of the benches. In the boys' locker room. A door slammed and Quinn looked up with startled vision.

"Hey, babe." Puck, dressed in full football gear, was sat on top of a wall of red lockers, he jumped down and near floated to the floor. "Nice duds." Quinn looked down to find she was wearing her McKinley cheerleading uniform, but this variation on the norm was a little more revealing and replacing red was baby blue. "Where'd you fall from?" He slid alongside her and nudged her shoulder with his. "Heaven?" His tone oozed with something like charm, but was much closer to smarm.

"Very funny," she said flatly, removing his hand from her thigh. "I'm so glad I don't have to listen to your pick-up lines anymore."

"Don't girls want to feel attractive?" Puck's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Of course, but we also want to feel like we're being told the truth."

"C'mon, you know you're the hottest girl in school -" he nuzzled her cheek and made her smile a little "- let's rearrange the alphabet and put P and Q next to each other." He nodded with self assurance.

"I think you mean U and I, because P and Q already _are_ next to each other, doofus."

He smirked, leaning over to kiss her. Quinn shuffled away. "In that case, maybe I should call R and S to join in." Puck's hands slid around Quinn's waist.

"No, Puck. " Quinn frowned.

He stuck out his bottom lip. "Pwease? "

"No," she said vehemently, crossing her arms.

"But this is a dream. You're not gonna get pregnant. And even if you did, they'd be little dream babies who'd go _poof_ by the time you wake."

"Still no."

Puck looked up as they heard a noise. "Hey, Dee-man." Finn looked down on them and smiled inanely.

"Dee?" Quinn asked with a shake of her head.

"Yeah," Finn smiled. "Puck is Tweedledum , I'm Tweedledee. Didn't you get the email?" Quinn was stunned into silence. "Y'know... the one Rachel sent out about us all gathering for an Alice in Wonderland party in your dream on Monday night?" Finn brought his wrist up to eye level and pointed at its face. "Which my Spiderman watch here tells me is... today."

"What? That is ridiculous."

Finn looked a little perturbed. "Oh, wow, awkward, did Rachel not invite you?" He sucked air through his teeth and looked over at Puck who was tutting. "Can she do that? Can she not invite Quinn to her own dream?"

A hand appeared in front of Quinn's face and the fingers snapped. "Clearly it doesn't matter because you're here."

"Oh, Miss Sylvester," Quinn gasped, staring at Sue's purple and pink tracksuit. "I didn't see you come in."

"Well, no, you wouldn't." Sue shook Quinn's hand vigorously while smiling widely. "What's the use in being a figment of your imagination, if I have to mess around walking in and out of doorways? And I certainly hope you have no intention of permitting toilet breaks. Non sequiturs stop us wasting time; logic is for losers, just ask the creators of Lost." Sue checked her clip board and tapped a finger on the paper attached. "Today it would appear I'm auditioning for the part of your subconscious, here represented by the Cheshire Cat: cute, huh? Well look at me. I clearly have the part anyway because of my winning smile," she beamed. The clipboard blinked out of existence.

"Coach, I'm a little confused."

"Clearly. Quite the fey little world you have here. What's next? A Titanic re-enactment?" Sue clasped her hand to her chest and spoke effeminately. "Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls." Sue spat on the floor. "What with armpit hair? Sick, Quinn, sick. You shouldn't be dreaming about your so-called friends. You should be immersed in a world of training and winning. This just isn't healthy, Q-ball. Look at what you've done to Mr Hudson, here; your psyche has reduced him to the mental equivalent of deformed plankton; when he's not talking he just stares at nothing."

Finn shook off his gormless expression and spoke up. "Oh, no, Miss Sylvester, I _do_ do that."

"Right, lord, we don't have time for half of this." Sue screwed her face up and the clipboard reappeared in her hands. "Okay. Number one. Let's lose Artie the caterpillar for starters; I'm not taking this dream anywhere near a drug-addled cripple in a sleeping bag. What else..." Sue scanned down the list. "Boring. Ridiculous. Pointless. I'm not having my any of my Cheerios eat cake in their sleep; it might give you ideas. Right, that leaves... the tea party."

"But how do I get there?" Quinn asked meekly.

"You already are." Sue disappeared and Quinn found herself in the practice room, dressed in jeans, chucks and a t-shirt.

"You could have dolled up for the occasion," Kurt remarked indignantly, as he pressed on Quinn's shoulder and forced her down into a seat. The action rocked the table.

"Sandwich?" Mercedes held up a full plate. "We cut off all the crusts to make them delicate."

"It's the small things that count," Kurt smiled in a self-satisfied manner, his elaborate hat sitting jauntily atop his head. Sweeping his velvet coat tails back, he seated himself at the head of the table. "So, Quinn... we find ourselves concerned for you. We believe you might not be feeling yourself. "

"I'm fine," Quinn said sternly. "Can I wake up yet?"

They ignored her." You're not the girl we once knew." Mercedes shook her head. "The one who would scowl at us and tell us we were unworthy of her presence. Who wouldn't have thought twice about pouring slushie down our necks."

"I'm not that person now."

"But you want to be, don't you? You feel like it's wrong if you don't reject us. Like you can't be Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader, wannabe prom queen... if you see us as friends."

Quinn sighed. "I don't _want_ that to be true."

"B-b-b-but you think it _is_ true," a small voice called out. "T-t-t-hat's why you've shunned R-r-r-rachel.

"What the hell was that?" Quinn asked, looking around.

A tiny version of Tina climbed out of the teapot and toppled onto her face. "Hey, Q-q-quinn."

Kurt looked up. "Why has Tina got a stutter? Have you not been paying attention, Quinn? She hasn't had one in months. Is this how you treat us?" The corners of his mouth turned down as he looked down his nose at her.

"Yeah," Mercedes pouted. "And what have you got me wearing? Do you think I have no style? Everything matches; what's up with that? Do you not know me at all? Only one wristwatch?" She held up her hand pointedly and then strutted away.

A whistle sounded. "Oh come on people. This is beyond boring," said another voice from nowhere. Quinn looked down to see Sue's face on the surface of a silver platter. "You call this surreal, Fabray? I've hallucinated worse after eating a hotdog from the school canteen." She brought her loudhailer to her lips. "Next."

Quinn blinked and looked down to find herself standing on the auditorium stage. She was now wearing a simple blue dress and cream shrug. Her hair, previously tied tight, now hung in loose curls, clasped on one side. Behind her, dressed in their Cheerios uniforms, Brittany and Santana were painting a grand set at the back of the stage. Brittany leaned over to whisper into Santana's ear, they both giggled and looked over at Quinn.

"We're painting the roses on the set red," Brittany explained.

"Of course you are," Quinn said as she rolled her eyes. "I'm starting to worry for my sanity."

Santana examined her nails. "But we're only doing it because _she_ said we have to."

"She, who? Coach Sylvester?"

"No, silly... Rachel," Santana raised an eyebrow. "But she's only doing all of this because she cares about you."

"If Rachel cares about me, why hasn't she spoken to me in weeks?" Quinn glared at the girls.

"It takes two to tango, sweetheart," Santana smirked.

"You have to sing your song now," Brittany explained, pushing Quinn to center stage.

"Song?" The piano seemed to play itself. "Of course. Did I really think that a dream organized and planned by Rachel Berry wouldn't include a song?" Quinn laughed to herself and lowered her gaze. Then, as the house lights rose, she began to sing. "Baby cried the day the circus came to town. 'Cause she didn't want parades just passing by her." She looked up. "So she painted on a smile and took up with some clown. While she danced without a net upon a wire. I know a lot about her, because you see. Baby," Quinn swallowed hard, "is an awful lot like me."

She closed her eyes as the words pulled from her throat. "We don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all. Baby saw that when they pulled that big top down. They left behind her dreams among the litter. And the different kind of love she thought she'd found. There was nothing left but sawdust and some glitter. But Baby can't be broken, 'cause you see. She had the finest teacher. That was me. I told her." Another spotlight shot down onto the stage, lighting Santana and Brittany, each with a microphone and singing back-up.

Quinn took a deep emotional breath. "We don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all." Quinn made fists with her hands. Behind her Brittany pulled out a trumpet and began playing. "We don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should fall, remember you almost made it. Don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Fly high and proud. And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all."

The music tailed off. With a clunk, the lights faded and Quinn became enveloped by darkness, save for a single spotlight almost blinding her. "I know you're there," she said with barely a whisper. "I expected you to join me; why didn't you take the limelight?"

"It's not time for that yet." Quinn felt Rachel's presence at first close by, then walking behind her. "You miss, it don't you?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know what you mean. Miss what?"

"Fighting with me," Rachel whispered.

The overhead lamps came back on and Quinn ran her hands through her hair self-consciously. "You make me nervous, but it's like stage nerves and it makes me feel alive. I don't know what to do with that. Where do I put that? If not fighting with you?"

"You have to express yourself somehow."

"Why do you make me feel like this? I hate that I don't understand it." Quinn pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips in a gesture of dominance.

"Maybe when you look at me, it reminds you of what you've given up." Rachel poked Quinn in the stomach. "Because when you look at me, you see my mother. You remember giving up your child." In a flurry of smoke and haze, Shelby appeared, baby in her arms, then disappeared almost instantly .

"No, that's not it. And that little effect was way too theatrical for one of _my_ dreams."

"What then? Because, Quinn, you've brought me here. You've labeled me as the bad guy." Rachel held her arms out to the sides. "You've even placed the blame for this dream on me. I'm the evil Queen in your little fantasy, and don't tell me that it's just because I look hot in red." Rachel tugged on one of the dress straps as she spoke. "It's because if you don't see me this way, then -"

"Don't. Please. I don't know. I don't know." She was almost frantic. "I just know that on Friday, something changed, and now I don't know what to do."

Rachel stepped closer, looking Quinn directly in the eyes. "Just say what you've been feeling."

"No," Quinn said breathily.

"Please."

"It's too hard. I can't."

"You can because... I put braids in your hair," Rachel said calmly.

"What?"

"I put braids in your hair." The voice was different this time. Quinn groggily sat up in her chair and reached up to find her hair a mess and Brittany staring maniacally at her.

"Hey, Quinn, nice to have you back." Will clapped. "Nice singing by the way. Not sure I've ever heard of anyone singing in their sleep before. Well maybe Rachel... I doubt she stops, even when unconscious."

Everyone laughed.

Santana leaned in close. "Flushed that much... gotta be a sex dream. Tell me all later." She winked.

* * *

[Tuesday]

Quinn crossed her arms and turned to the boys. Her hair was caught up prettily in a 1940s-style headscarf and she was wearing full coveralls. "We get this done and we get it done fast. I have so many places I'd rather be. Also ... I want no mention of getting 'down and dirty' or naked mudwrestling. Right?" She turned her ear to them. "Hello? Earth to idiots?"

Mercedes pulled on her elbow. "I think you've lost them. They'll be glazed over for a good five minutes."

Santana snapped her fingers in front of Finn's face.

"Oh for crap's sake. Useless." Quinn shouted with her hands on her hips. "Come on girls."

They lined up and surveyed the area. "Surely this goes against health and safety," Tina moaned. "What if we die? Will they remember us as the Glee Club, or the kids who got swallowed by the swamp monster under the bleachers?"

Mercedes picked up shovel. "If they remember us at all."

* * *

"Perhaps we should sing a song to raise our spirits," Puck suggested as he pulled out a huge foam pointy fingered hand from the mulch.

"As long as it's not a Jew version of 'Swing low, sweet chariot', I'm happy with that," Mercedes replied.

"Oh man, what is this? There's something big in here. I think it's an old bicycle. C'mon, help me out, Skywalker," Puck called and indicated for Finn to throw over a bundle of rope.

"Why am I not Luke?" asked Sam. "I'm so Luke."

Puck threaded the rope around the handlebars. "Because my man Finn here is the kind of sweet guy who would fall in love with his long lost sister."

Finn's face dropped. "Thanks, Puck."

Puck smugly called out for Sam, Mike and Artie in turn. "Chewbacca, threepio and artoo."

"Haha," Artie dead-panned as he wheeled over.

"If the shoe fits," Puck shrugged. "Finn, tie the rope to the front of Artie's chair and we'll pull this old thing outta here. Mike, you drag Artie back and Finn and Sam will lever it up with these sticks.

"And what will you do?" asked Sam, wiping filth from his forehead.

"Wait for the glory." He folded his arms and stood deep in the trash. Suddenly his expression changed. "Whoa. Something just moved past my leg!"

"Yeah, sure," Sam smirked, disbelieving.

"Look. Did you see that? Puck pointed. "There's something alive in here."

"Boys!" Quinn, Mercedes, Tina and Santana shook their heads.

"I totally agree." Kurt appeared behind them, dressed in one his dad's coveralls, finished off with diamanté belt. "We're all doomed."

Puck pretended to flail in the boggy heap and then laughing, reached down and picked up a random item to hold in the air. He held it aloft and shook it. "It's alive." Everyone took a step back and looked a little pale. "Hey, I was only joking."

Artie spoke up: "I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings... but you're holding up what appears to be a disembodied human limb.

* * *

"I never knew Puck could scream a high F," said Kurt with a wave of his hand as he strode down the hallway. "We could dress him as a nun and get him to sing Climb Every Mountain at Regionals."

"I'm just glad Mr Schuester said we were emotionally scarred enough not to have to continue with the clean-up, even if it was just an old mannequin." Mercedes clutched her fists tight and bounced as she walked. "I wonder where it came from."

Kurt grinned. "Well, didn't you notice... the various parts of the body were wearing a Cheerios t-shirt, trainers and baseball cap."

"So you think..." Mercedes nodded with realization.

Kurt tapped his nose. "Deduction, Miss Jones. Well, that and Brittany admitted that Coach Sylvester had asked her to dismantle it and put it there. I do worry about that girl sometimes."

* * *

"It's not littering if it's your own back yard," Sue shouted in Will's face as she looked down on him from the stone steps.

"You can't just dump stuff when you don't want it," Will retaliated.

"Doing things properly costs money and humanity is innately lazy. Why do you think the mob is so successful? Who wouldn't prefer a gun-carrying professional over a bureaucrat? One day, Will, when you're old, dribbling, incontinent or, preferably, dead, I'll be swimming in a sea of gold coins; not just because I cut corners, but because I intend to marry a rich Italian prince. For the title only; I can't _stand_ Italians." Sue spat down the collar of a passing boy.

"Sue!" Will objected.

"What? You expect me not to prove my point?" Sue pursed her lips pointedly.

"But that boy isn't even Italian."

"Jeez. His father owns and runs a shop that sells European leather purses. It was the best I could do with the time allotted." She pointed at Will and glared. "I'd like to see you do better."

"Sue. This is serious. I've taken a look and there's all sorts of Cheerios mess under there. Including several pompoms... in Carmel High colors."

"Well how strange of them to leave them under our bleachers."

Will crossed his arms and stood a little straighter. "Get it sorted, Sue, or I'll report you. Figgins will cut your budget if he finds out, so just pay to get it cleared and we can both call it quits."

* * *

Rachel stared hard at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. "This is utterly ridiculous. I should not be completely topsy-turvy over such a simple matter. This is not who I am. I am Rachel. I am focus. I am poise. I am... I am... I am completely riddled with doubt and confusion." She closed her eyes, made fists with her hands and inhaled deeply, but where her thoughts might form into song, she found no sound. "Think strength. Think stardom. Think of your future, Rachel." She tried again. Nothing. "Oh dear," she sighed and frowned deeply. "I just... don't have it in me."

* * *

[Wednesday]

"Rachel, would you like to take the floor?" Will rubbed his hands together and moved his chair out of the way.

"No thank you, Mr Schuester. I'm gonna sit this one out."

"Are you okay? Do you have laryngitis again?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just -" she shrugged "- don't feel like singing."

"Is this a trick?" Quinn asked with a brutal stare.

"No trick," Rachel replied simply.

"We'd really like to hear you sing," Kurt offered up from the back of the room.

"No, really. I've taken the limelight for too long." Rachel gave a half-hearted smile. "In fact, this feels a little weird so I should go. "

Finn piped in. "Is this about the party, 'cause we know we made a mistake?"

"No, Finn. No, this is me. I think I need something new to put my energies into, but I'm sure we'll see each other around. Good luck with Regionals." Picking up her bag, she slipped out the door with barely a goodbye.

Quinn chased after her.

"Whoa, did Rachel just leave Glee Club?" asked Finn.

Artie looked around. "Why is everyone surprised? Rachel _not_ leaving once a week would be more rare."

* * *

"What're you doing, Berry?" Quinn lunged forward and grabbed Rachel by the arm. "Don't you care about anyone in there?"

"I thought you didn't talk to me anymore." Rachel's lower lip twitched as she spoke, wrenching herself away.

"Answer me."

"Of course I do," she belted, her chin shuddering imperceptibly.

"You think you can make all of us feel guilty by walking away? Huh? Well you won't. I won't let you. So get back in there and spend the next five minutes singing your little heart out on some lame, obscure showtune. Then everything can get back to normal." Quinn went to push the door open, but Rachel didn't move.

Rachel bore her a look of pity. "I love everyone in that room, Quinn. And I have no wish to submit them to anything less than a one hundred percent committed Rachel Berry. I'm not stupid, and I know when I'm beaten."

"What are you even talking about?"

"I'm done with performing. I need to find something else, something attainable."

"But it makes you happy." Quinn reached out and touched Rachel's arm.

"If what happened on Friday night affects me this much, how am I ever going to make it in the real world? Eight shows a week doesn't allow for off days." Rachel crossed her arms and hugged them to her stomach. "Seeing as we're no longer in the same peer group, please save a thought for someone who used to be your equal, before you think to throw that slushie or steal my notepaper to write an obscene love letter to the janitor on my behalf." Rachel put out her hand for Quinn to shake, but she just looked at it. "Well... see you around, Quinn."

As she walked away, Rachel's arm brushed Quinn's. '_Oh, God_,' thought Quinn. '_I think a hundred butterflies just flew into my stomach and threw up. Or are they just regular butterflies? Am I looking adoringly at her? Stop that, Quinn. Get a grip. You are Quinn Fabray, you are one of the hottest girls in the school, you have the world at your feet. You are not a fan of Rachel Berry. You don't care about her at all_.'

* * *

"I need a coffee drip, stat. Rip open a vein and jack me up." Sue stumbled into the staff room, grasping hold of various people's arms so they had no choice but to ease her down into a chair. She lay her arm across her eyes and sighed. "Hello? Did you jerks not hear me? Coffee. Now," she yelped.

"Is everything all right, Sue?" Emma asked, leaning in a little close, and causing Sue's head to draw back into her neck.

"It was Debbie Does Dallas meets The Exorcist." Sue shook her head, her eyes straining to match the wideness of Emma's. "Poor Becky has had to be given oxygen; it was all too much for her."

"Did you see a ghost?"

A coffee was shakily pressed into her hand. "A ghost?" Sue sat up and took a sip. "What are you, crazy? How do you help people when you yourself are an emotionally stunted and delusional human being? No I didn't see a _ghost_, looney tunes."

"What then?" Emma asked, looking sweetly confused and tugging at the bow under her chin.

"Rachel -" she gulped down a mouth of bile "- Berry auditioned for the Cheerios." Sue blinked. "It was the most offensive thing I have ever seen, and I've seen a family of inuits play ice hockey with a live seal pup. That girl is deranged. She needs her own PSA."

"A tryout?" Emma shook her head. "But Rachel is a very good dancer."

"Be that as it may, she seems to think that cheerleading is all about pelvic thrusts, star jumps and some sort of lunge action. I never want to see that much thigh from a girl of her stature ever again. Please tell that non-boyfriend of yours that if any other of his club members try to audition, I'll be signing the application for a license to carry an air rifle on school property."

* * *

[Thursday]

Rachel closed the office door and sat down without a word. She was dressed in a gray pinafore dress, black suit jacket and charcoal patent oxfords. Her hair was pulled strictly into a tight knot, bangs swept to the side.

"Good morning, Miss Pillsbury," she said softly.

"Good morning." Emma smiled with a twitch of concern at the corners of her mouth, taking her seat opposite.

"I require your help. And I also wish to apologize for my maltreatment of you before. It was unkind."

"That's all right, Rachel. I wanted to have a word with you anyway. You seem to have been... going through a few changes." Emma had expected Rachel to chime in with comments, but she remained silent. "First there was the act of disruption in the library for which you received a detention, however I see from your records that it was delayed indefinitely. Do you know why that was?"

"No teachers available, apparently," she replied demurely.

"Well I've checked and there were... oh..." Emma stopped in her tracks, realizing that each teacher had turned down the opportunity to sit quietly in a room with Rachel Berry for an hour. "I'm sure you've learned your lesson without such needs for punishment." Emma licked her lips and took a considered breath. "Then there is the matter of the cheerleading try-outs."

"I'm still waiting to hear back from Miss Sylvester on that score."

"Right..." Emma nodded slowly.

"If I may, I'd like your help with my move into government. It will enable me to still fulfill my dreams of mass audiences, but remain emotionally detached."

"Politics, Rachel? I don't -"

"I've heard it worked for other performers. I checked. There was Ronald Regan, Sonny Bono, and _apparently_ Governer Schwarzenegger had a career in acting once. Can't see it myself... he's a little on the burly side."

"But weren't you -" Emma looked startled as Rachel raised her hand swiftly.

"Kicked off the debate team for taking sides? Yes, but my dominant presence could only be seen as an asset in the world of politics."

"Rachel, I'm a little concerned by the way you pick and choose from other people's lives and force those events onto yourself. You've got to choose your own path, follow your heart, wherever it takes you. Be it to the moon and back. And please... stop reading celebrity profiles on Wikipedia."

* * *

Sue shut her office door and crossed her arms. "I've never seen you perform such a dire dismount. I rely on you Quinn, I need you on the ball, eyes on the prize. The other girls look up to you." She perched on the edge of her desk and shook her head.

"I know." Quinn sat up straight, maintaining her poise. "And I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind. A few... unwanted thoughts."

"Have you been having the dream where the Pillsbury Doughboy crushes you to a warm, delicious death?"

"No, thank you; those have gone after the shots you gave me."

"C'mon, spill those beans. Let loose those inner demons so we can get you back on form."

"Miss Sylvester." Quinn ran her fingertip over her ear and coughed. "I seemed to have developed feelings for... for someone I really shouldn't."

"Who is it? A judge? A religious figure in your community?" Sue narrowed her eyes. "I thought those subliminal messages we've been sending over the PA system might have warped your tiny, throbbing pea brains. Is there a new craze for sleeping with the dead?"

"Ew, no. It's someone in this school. A live person."

Sue nodded. "It's perfectly okay. I understand, Authority is a powerful pheromone. It's natural for you to be drawn to the one person who you look to for support. I mean look at you, obviously raised by the book, full of direction and drive, but never had a proper dominant figure in your life... until me."

"Coach?" Quinn narrowed her eyes.

"You're completely messed up. Clearly suppressing trauma over giving up a child, yet you rally through, pushing the hideous monster that is your guilt, shame and grief, down into the bile and sputum of your gut. I, personally, would have gaily shot one of the homeless to release some of that anger, but you were raised a different way." Sue tapped her finger on the table in time with the words of her conjecture. "If I were your mother, I would have had your ovaries removed pre-high school and stored cryogenically until such a time when you felt the need to procreate. I've even sent in a proposition to the government to have this procedure put in place in every state. And do you know why?"

"You... don't like babies?"

"I care, Quinn." Sue held her hand to her heart. "And that's just one of the reasons why you've got a crush on me."

"Oh no. I -"

"It's fine," she cracked a cocky smile. "Secret is safe with me. It's harmless."

"Coach, you're not the one."

Sue turned and coughed, pulling at her sleeves. She rotated her shoulders and stretched her neck muscles. "Course. Knew that. Just trying to pave the way to the truth."

"It's Rachel Berry."

She swiveled on her sneakered heel. "Oh my _God_. I see your problem."

"It's like having an allergy. I want be around her but she makes me itch."

"STDs are serious shizz, m'lady."

"Not literally itch. That's gross."

"Rachel Berry is like a dime store dolly. Sure they're fun, full of bright, white smiles and echoes of happy times, but deep down you just wanna rip off her chewable face and spit down her hollow little neck," Sue sneered.

"Little harsh."

"Love _is_ harsh, Miss Fabray."

Quinn swallowed hard. "I didn't say anything about love; I was talking about hate."

"If it were hate you wouldn't be shy and coy, you'd be boasting. You know as well as I do that a little hate makes the world go round. Did you know one in four high school crushes ends in one party developing alopecia?" Sue pulled out a pen torch and shone the light in Quinn's eyes to check her pupillary response. "Are you sleeping?"

"Not night now." Quinn squinted.

"At night," Sue said impatiently.

"Not much."

"Are you eating your Cheerio protein food substitutes?"

"Well, no, I'd been a little off food, but -"

Sue sucked in air through her teeth. "Not good, Fabray. We need to quash these symptoms of wretched romantic desire. Love is a distraction you don't need. Now... do you want me to put a hit out on her? I'm training Becky in archery, and I could be persuaded to nudge her elbow in the right direction." Sue clicked her tongue and winked.

* * *

"I'd like to sing a lead at Sectionals," Tina said perkily from the back of the raised seating, only to be subsequently astonished when everyone agreed that she should. "Well that's just weird. I'm nervous now."

"Don't be. With Rachel gone we can all be ourselves. We can relax for once," said Mercedes, raising her hands and nodding along to a hallelujah in her head.

"Listen to yourselves. Sure Rachel drove herself forward, sometimes at your cost, but she also raised your game." Will looked ashamed on behalf of the group. "You've got to fight for her place here, even if it means battling with Rachel herself."

"With all due respect, Mr Schue." Artie clasped his hands together. "If she doesn't want to sing, that's up to her."

"Do you guys honestly think that Rachel could just give up performing? Did you ever think that could happen?" Will frowned with disbelief.

"No way." Finn shook his head. "She always said that without music, she was nothing."

"There's got to be more to this than meets the eye. Did anything else happen Friday night? Did something get said? Done?" Will pushed for answers. "Come on, guys."

"Uhm, Mr Schue?" Brittany looked around at the sea of stony faces. "When the lights went out, I think kissed Rachel."

"What?" Will looked taken aback.

Brittany tipped her head to one side and looked upon her teacher with pity. "Kissing, Mr Schue? It's like talking, but with no gap in between your faces; have you never done it?"

Finn looked around the room, raised his hand and then timidly spoke. "Actually, I think I kissed Rachel."

Puck nodded. "Me too."

Santana looked up from pulling a thread free from her mini skirt. "Are you all about to have an 'I'm Spartacus' moment?"

"You can't _all_ have kissed her. Come on. Who here kissed someone?" Will asked everyone to raise their hands.

Everyone apart from Santana, Quinn and Mike raised their hand. Santana looked incredibly annoyed. "How was I not aware of this kiss-facing? And how the hell was I not on the receiving end? Something is wrong in yo' people's heads." She snapped her fingers and made a face of discontentment.

Will checked his watch. "Look, I've got to go. Please... look in your hearts and see what they say. Whatever happened, you've hurt Rachel. Remember that she's your friend."  
Left alone in the practice room, the group discussed their situation.

"Is Mr Schue right? Should we try to get her back?" Tina pulled at her gloves nervously.

"I miss watching her butt," Puck nodded.

"Me too," said Finn, but when Quinn glared at him, he added: "Sorta, kinda. Aw, hell, yeah, I miss her butt. It was nice. She was nice."

"There are elements of sparring that I do appreciate about Rachel," Kurt mused. "And, though it does pain me to admit it, I enjoy her singing."

"Oh come on, guys. She's baggage we can all lose. Glee Club is a whole lot better off without Rachel Berry," Quinn snarled.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Kurt whispered to Mercedes.

"Methinks, the lady's got a bee up her bee-hind," Mercedes whispered back.

"Glee Club is never quite Glee Club without Rachel," said Artie. "I miss having someone around who was even weirder than me."

"Yeah," everyone agreed, resting their chins on their knuckles.

"She is actually pretty nice to all of us," Tina admitted. "It's just a shame she always ends up making you feel like you're a fan who's just begged for her autograph."

"Her clothes are improving," Mercedes nodded.

"There was something wrong with the way she dresses?" asked Artie, who was wearing blue slacks, a pink shirt and a zipped-up argyle sweater.

Santana leaned forward. "Quit it. Bored now. You all know you want Rachel around; just sing her some dumb song and she'll come crawling back."

"Wait a minute, _you_ want Rachel back, Santana?" said Kurt, almost agog.

"The chick has attitude, balls and good pipes. And I don't ever want to be friends with any woman who isn't at least twenty percent bitch. Don't be limiting down the number of people in this group I can growl at."

"Grr," echoed Brittany.

From outside the practice room door, Will watched the group and smiled.

* * *

"Rachel!" Finn spotted her walking down the hallway and came running after her. "You look, ah..." He wanted to say 'nice' but instead came out with: "like you're going to court."

"I have a new direction, Finn, and it's in completely the opposite direction to New Directions."

"Right, I think I got that." Finn's jaw tightened. "Ahh, um. Yeah. I wanted to say -" he looked awkward and twisted about on the spot "- you should come back. We miss you."

"I hardly think anyone misses me, Finn, though it was very nice of you to say so."

"They do, and we're sorry about the party."

Rachel patted him on the arm. "I'm a big girl: I can handle rejection."

"No you can't. It hurts you deep inside; I can see that in your eyes."

Her cheek twitched. "Honestly, Finn, you'd have me down as a girl with too much sensitivity."

"Some isn't a bad thing, and I'd be pretty cut up if I'd been excluded. If you never show people you're hurt, they'll always treat you the same."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Rachel eyed him curiously.

Finn stepped back a little. "Uh, that did what?"

"Sent Jacob to my house on Friday night."

"Huh?"

* * *

[Flash to Friday]

Rachel was sitting on her bed, gently brushing her hair, when the first noise came. A 'blam', then the metallic ring of footsteps. Soon followed by the sound of suppressed yelping.

"What in the..." Rachel said, stepping with trepidation towards the bedroom window.

"Help," a small restricted voice yelled.

She raised the window and looked down to see Jacob climbing up a ladder.

"I have my hair caught in your rose bush," he whined.

Running back with a large set of scissors, Rachel stood on tip-toe and leaned out. Unceremoniously, she chopped off large chunk of his curly, red hair to set him free. "Better?"

"Oh my God, my beautiful mane," he said, reaching to feel the ghost of his previously dome-like head. He climbed in and fell onto the floor.

Rachel looked at him and said, with sudden realization as he dusted himself down: "You've come to peep at me, you, you... peeper." She hit at his sides and flapped him away. "Get out."

"No, no. I come in peace. I promise. I have a message for you, my dear woman." Jacob was silent for a moment and just stood and stared. "Holy..."

"Well?"

"All my Chanukahs come at once," he gulped, looking briefly upwards in thanks. "What is this you're wearing?"

"When I feel a little lonely I put on one of my dad's dress shirts so I don't feel so alone." Rachel raised her hands, which were covered by low hanging cuffs, then tugged at the shirt's hem to cover her thighs.

"Which dad?"

"They're both men, Jacob. They can share shirts." Rachel ran her hands through the length of her hair then looked up. "Why am I even telling you this, you pervert?"

"Cool," was all he would be able to utter, lost in thought.

Rachel crossed her arms and glared. "I thought you said that you weren't here to letch?"

"I bring a message of a Glee Club party, which I'm not permitted to attend, but that I am compelled to urge you to... turn up... at."

Rachel frowned. "And who told you to tell me?"

"I have no idea. I received a message, but I am promised a crisp ten dollar bill if you go. So please... go." Jacob rethought his words. "Or we could, y'know, hang out. Maybe I could de-pants and you could fetch me one of those shirts too. We could paint each other's toenails and watch Lindsay Lohan movies, the old ones, not the new ones."

"Party location, Jacob." Rachel said sternly. "Now."

He began pulling his cell out of his pocket. "Would you lean over and just pout a little while I take a picture?"

"Now!"

"When you go, can I use your bed?"

* * *

[Thursday]

"Well that explained why Jacob looks like he's fallen asleep on a buzzsaw table," Finn nodded with realization.

"So... was it you?" Rachel looked up expectantly at Finn's tall frame. "Who sent the message?"

"Sorry," he winced . "No."

"Fine. I'm sure it was someone's sick way of letting me know that my friends let me down anyway." She went to leave but Finn pulled her round. "What now?"

"Uhm. I wanted to talk to you, about the kiss."

"The kiss," she said timidly. "What do you know about the kiss?"

"It's just... you kinda lunged for me, and I was surprised. It was kinda cool."

"I didn't kiss you, Finn, I'm sorry. It must have been someone else. I didn't _lunge_ at anyone."

"Oh. Well who was it?"

She reached up to pat him on the shoulder . "Looks like you're going to have to do a little detective work for that one."

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Finn?"

"Can we be friends?"

"I'd like that... very much." Out of her bag Rachel pulled a badge and pinned it on Finn's chest. It said: 'Vote Berry.'

* * *

"Someone told me detention was being held here?" Rachel eased open the practice room door.

"Yeah, I said I'd take it. Please... take a seat." Will beckoned her in.

Rachel sat at the bottom of the tiered seating. "Feels strange to be in here and not singing." She looked over at the drum kit and a guitar propped up against a bookcase of sheet music. "What would you like me to do? Write an essay?"

"Let's wait for the others, then we can get started."

"Oh, okay. You'll have to excuse my naïveté; this is my first time. Who knows, maybe I will be able to rehabilitate some of these ne'er-do-wells and criminals with kindness, not to mention the power of my positive aura." Rachel sat up primly.

"Well, let's hope so. But they're not a bad bunch of kids." There was a knock at the door. "That will be them now."

The Glee Club members piled in and sat down.

"Oh, no, Mr Schue, I think I should go. This could be awkward."

"You've got to stay, Rachel. It's your detention time. And theirs."

"We all agreed to do it. Because we wanted to see you." Mercedes leaned over and squeezed Rachel's shoulder; she looked touched.

"We've worked on a little song we wanted to play for you." Will indicated Rachel. "It's one we can sing with just drums and guitar, but you'll all be happy to know that the piano will be back from repairs tomorrow."

"But we haven't raised the money yet." Finn looked around the room.

Will smiled broadly. "Well, you can thank Mercedes for that."

"I sold the VIP tickets Rachel got me and bought regular ones. It seemed like the right thing to do." Everyone looked at Mercedes with a sort of pity. "I'll get to be his backing singer one day, anyway," she shrugged. "Are we gonna sing this song for Rachel or what? I don't usually sing country but I dig the message."

Finn made a leap for the drums and began a hushed beat. Puck and Sam grabbed and began plucking at their guitars. Everyone else gathered in the center to face Rachel, and began to sing.

Finn took the lead. "I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow, and each road leads you where you want to go. And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose, I hope you choose the one that means the most to you. And if one door opens to another door closed, I hope you keep on walkin' 'til you find the window. If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile."

"But more than anything, more than anything. My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small. You never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there getting where you're getting to. I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too. Yeah, this, is my wish." Rachel coyly tucked hair behind her ear.

"I hope you never look back, but ya never forget. All the ones who love you, in the place you left. I hope you always forgive, and you never regret. And you help somebody every chance you get. Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake. And you always give more than you take."

Puck took over and sat down beside Rachel as he played his guitar. "But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything. My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small. You never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there getting where you're getting to. I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too. Yeah, this, is my wish."

"My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small. You never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there getting where you're getting to. I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too. Yeah, this, is my wish."

"This is our wish. I hope you know somebody loves you. May all your dreams stay big."

Will did his traditional 'woop'.

Rachel clapped politely. "Thanks, guys, that was very sweet. And I appreciate what you're doing. But I'm not coming back."

"But, why, Rachel?" asked Will with deep concern.

"Because I can't stand how I'm feeling when I'm here. I can't focus, I can't think. I go home and I can't sleep. More importantly, I can't sing. I think my time is over. Music is no longer taking up one hundred percent of my energies."

"You just sound like a normal kid to me. Music doesn't have to be an all or nothing thing." Will called her over and spoke to her at a level inaudible to the others. "Rachel, Brittany thinks she kissed you at the party."

"No, Mr Schue. I was kissed, but whoever did it... I think they did it to hurt me. Maybe the same person who let me know to come here that night. It's been driving me crazy."

"You know who it was, don't you?" He frowned.

"Maybe. I don't know." She shook her head.

"We need to sort this mess out." He looked back up to the group. "Guys, I want whoever kissed Rachel to admit it. Rachel said it wasn't Brittany."

"Mr Schue," Rachel tugged at his sleeve. "Don't. Please."

"It's the only way, Rachel."

Everyone looked at each other nervously.

"Come on guys, you all must know who you kissed." Will crossed his ams.

"It was dark," Tina shrugged.

"Or you all won't admit it."

"Mr Schue?" Finn raised his hand. "I for one would really like to know what happened and I have an idea."

* * *

"This is stupid," Quinn said petulantly, standing in exactly the same spot she had been when the lights had gone on Friday.

"Okay, I'll get the switch, and you all just move in the direction you did that night."

They called out in agreement and were plunged into darkness.

"I can't hear movement," Will coughed, and begrudgingly the shuffling began.

"Crap, stuff this." Santana stomped her foot.

"Okay, now shake hands with the person you kissed, people. Ready?" The lights flicked on.

Santana had Mike crushed up against the wall and was kissing his neck. He looked down at her, slightly bemused. "I'm not missing out this time," she said as she took a breath.

Will looked around the room. Puck and Sam were standing facing each other and appeared to be frozen to the spot.

"Dude, your lips are like chick's ones," Puck said with a grimace.

"You can't blame me; yours are like little pillows and you have really soft skin."

"Thank you." They both smiled and then looked like they were going to vomit.

Over by the piano, Finn stood with Brittany's legs wrapped around his waist.

"You taste like beef jerky," Brittany blushed. "I like it," she whispered into his ear.

"Thanks." Finn smiled widely until a disapproving look from Will caused him to lower Brittany to her feet.

Artie's eyes we're still closed, so Tina, who was sitting on his lap, tapped on his nose. "Hey, there, you."

"I've missed you ," he said soothingly.

Kurt leaned over and kissed Mercedes on the nose. "I didn't want you to feel left out on your birthday."

"Aw Kurt, you're sweet. I just hope you're the only gay guy I kiss in my lifetime."

"And, of course, I hope for the opposite," he smirked.

Brittany cocked her head to one side and looked at Kurt curiously. "You only want to kiss gay girls?"

Nearer the door, Rachel stood, arms at her sides, and breathed deeply, suppressing tears. "Why -" she asked plainly "- when it's clear how I feel, would you break my heart like that?"

"I'm sorry," Quinn said breathily.

Rachel covered her face with her hands and ran from the room.

"Finn. Finn. Finn." Puck slapped him in the back of the head. "Dude, are you dead or just comatose?"

"This is so weird. Do things like this actually happen? Do exes get together?" Finn looked puzzled.

"Only in my dreams, but then they start kissing me too." He looked thoughtful. "I'm so glad I got the janitor to kill the lights."

"You sure 'bout that?" said Sam.

"Quinn, are you okay? You look like you're in shock." Will grabbed her by the shoulders and planted her down on the piano seat. "I'm sure it was an accident; you thought she was someone else. Just find her and explain."

"No," she dismissed.

"Come on, Quinn, she thinks you did it to hurt her."

Quinn hugged her waist. "I did it because it hurt too much _not_ to kiss her."

Everyone looked shocked.

"I don't get it myself; if I should be crushing on a woman it should be Santana."

"Hey," said Brittany with an exaggerated pout.

"Sorry Brittany, blonde on blonde cheerleader is way too creepy guy pervy fodder. See." Without even looking up, Quinn thrust out her hand in Puck's direction to indicate his almost-drooling expression of day-dreaming pleasure.

Finn spoke up: "Quinn, you have to find her and tell her."

"I don't even know where to look."

"If you were Rachel, where would you go?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

* * *

Rachel stood on the auditorium stage and sang her heart out. "It's in your eyes, feelings can't be disguised, 'cause the truth makes me want you to tell me lies. My biggest fear is crying oceans of tears. I would rather you not be so sincere. How cold could you be? What would you do if you were me? I'm better off if it's a mystery." Rachel shook her head and made fists with her hands. "'Cause I don't wanna know. If I kissed your lips for the last time. Please don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's not goodbye and do this one thing for me. Make up some stupid story tonight. It's all right, keep your truth and tell me lies."

"Something's not right, love is nowhere in sight. I'm not ready to let go, it's not time. How cruel could you be? Don't say it's through, least not to me. I'm better off, leave it a mystery." She squeezed shut her eyes and when she opened them, Quinn was crossing the floor towards her, singing along. "'Cause I don't wanna know if I kissed your lips for the last time. Please don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's not goodbye. And do this one thing for me. Make up some stupid story tonight. It's all right; keep your truth and tell me lies. Don't tell me you're leaving. There's only so much I can take. It's easier if you're faking." Quinn took Rachel's hand in hers and pulled her around. Rachel stopped singing, a lump forming in her throat, but Quinn continued.

"'Cause I don't wanna know if I kissed your lips for the last time. Please don't say if it's so. Tell my heart it's not goodbye. And do this one thing for me. Make up some stupid story. Can we keep pretending?" Quinn touched Rachel's cheek. "This is not the ending tonight. It's all right; keep your truth and tell me lies."

They rested their foreheads together. "Tell me, tell me, tell me lies."

"I don't understand," Rachel frowned.

"I can't say the things I want to say, because they sound so wrong coming out of my mouth." Quinn looked down briefly.

"Say the opposite, then."

"I really, _really_... hate you."

"I... hate you too." Rachel's look went from soft to giddy. "Would you like to sing 'What Is This Feeling?' from Wicked? The parodical nature, romantic connotation combined with the loathing element would be very suitable for this occasion."

"No," replied Quinn, moving to stand with her hands behind her back.

Rachel still looked hopeful. "Does that mean...?"

"No."

"Oh," she uttered, her cheek twitching.

"I'm sorry for sending Jacob to your house," Quinn bit her lip.

"It's okay. Though I may have to get bars fitted on my window. And get a taser." Rachel frowned. "Should we go back to fighting?

"I'd rather not."

Rachel looked highly dejected. "Okay. I understand."

"I don't." Quinn looked perturbed, almost angry. "I shouldn't want you in my life. I'm supposed to work my way through the football team until one guys sticks. Then I get married and get a job in fashion. This isn't who I am. This isn't the path I'm supposed to follow."

"We're both unique. Maybe we don't have a designated path, unless it's one we choose ourselves. Maybe the logical choices aren't always the right ones," Rachel explained.

Quinn nodded, shrugged and bit her bottom lip. "Okay... let's just try this, because I can't do with any more weird dreams." Rachel looked at her with questioning eyes. "Never mind. Though if you get me to sing 'Don't Cry Out Loud' in my sleep ever again, I may have to switch schools."

"Huh?" Rachel uttered sweetly. "That song is far better suited to my voice. I'd never request for you to sing it. There's no powerhouse ability in your voice."

"Shut up, Berry," said Quinn suddenly, stunning Rachel into silence. "I... want to try with the lights on." They leaned in and kissed; Rachel's knees buckled a little as they sank into each other's arms. "Mm, yes, I hate logic," Quinn said as she pulled away momentarily.

"Definitely," Rachel replied as she tugged at Quinn's waist. "However, I still believe, logically, I would be a more appropriate songstress for belting out a ballad such as -"

Quinn decided to stop the conversation by removing the gap between them as she pulled Rachel in for another tender, yet eager kiss.

* * *

[Next time on Glee. ]

"Somebody, please stop this carousel of insanity," Sue screamed. "I wish to dismount my metaphorical plastic stallion."

[Prepare for competition of a lifetime... as the Cheerios go head to head with their rivals in a thrilling showdown .]

"Grab that o -b-l . Now dot that i . And grab that t-e-r-a-t-e ," the Lima AllStars cheered.

"How about you grab a clue?" Santana waved her finger at the group. "We are going to _destroy_ you."

[Finn and Brittany go on a date and end up locked in the back of a truck headed for Atlanta. ]

"I've always wanted to visit an underwater city," said Brittany as she snuggled into Finn's side.

"Oh my God, me too," Finn beamed.

[After Rachel and Quinn made up by making _out_, they have trouble adjusting to their new roles.]

"And I thought I was controlling," Rachel sneered.

"Hah. When you could barely control your butt into those jeans," Quinn retorted.

Rachel checked her watch. "Oh, gotta go, ttylb." She stood on tip toe to kiss Quinn, who was left smiling serenely.

[Glee will knock your _socks_ off.]

"Whoa," breathed Puck.

[You just have to tune in and tune up.]

Mercedes stood with her hands on her hips and said, incredulously: "You did a what in the what now and where and with whom?"


	2. Totally Cyranoed

I'm writing an achele story set alongside Uninvited and this Totally Cyranoed. If you'd like to be notified when this starts, leave me a message or sign up for story alert. :)

**Title:** Totally Cyranoed  
**Author:** Claire G  
**Pairing:** Rachel/Quinn, Finn/Brittany, Brittany/angst/Santana, Will/Terri  
**Word count:** 19,663  
**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters are the property of Fox. No infringement intended.  
**Plot:** Another episode! Sequel to 'Uninvited'. Spoilers up to Rocky Horror. Santana is having a bad week. With Puck in tow, she plays a prank she'll soon regret. Rachel rejects Quinn! Both girls seek advice, but is it what they really want to hear and will they listen? The Cheerios are challenged. Will and Sue are shocked to find the opposing team led by a familiar face.  
**Songs featured: **Grease - There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time, Owl City - Fireflies, Michael Jackson - Man In The Mirror, Lifehouse - Whatever It Takes

* * *

[So here's what you missed last week.]

[Rachel started acting strangely, then left Glee club.]

"I just -" Rachel shrugged "- don't feel like singing."

[Finn and Brittany got a little closer.]

Finn stood with Brittany's legs wrapped around his waist. "You taste like beef jerky." Brittany blushed. "I like it."

[Nearly everyone believed they'd kissed Rachel during the party blackout.]

Santana looked up. "Are you all about to have an 'I'm Spartacus' moment?"

[But in fact it was just one, rather unexpected, person.]

Quinn nodded, shrugged and bit her bottom lip.

[And that's what you missed on Glee.]

* * *

[Wednesday]

_'When Jean-Paul Sartre said that hell is being locked in a room with your friends, he was, like, so totally right,'_ Santana thought, wanting to take a swipe at one of the youngest cheerleaders who was sticking her tongue out tauntingly. _'Except replace 'room' with 'high school' and 'your friends' with 'an army of gross and idiotic teenagers, a few actual friends, and a bunch of totalitarian teachers. The person we become in these formative years defines who we are in life. Problem is, what molds us right now is that which is forced upon us as we are pushed and knocked into shape by the opinions and expectations of our peers. Their judgements and rejections lay our path to misery and create our private hell. It's survival of the fittest: eat or be eaten. Every day is spent predicting which way the dice will fall. Every choice is a battle, and if you choose the wrong side, you're done for. Anyone who says that you can be whoever you want to be, is lying.'_ As part of this training session, all the cheerleaders had been suspended with bended knees over the horizontal bars. Santana felt the blood flush to her cheeks as she became increasingly light-headed. One of the girls threw up, which is hard to do in that position, and vomit appeared to go up her nose. It was usually around halfway through practice that the dry retching began; today was no exception. _'Especially in high school.'_

With a click, Coach Sylvester depressed the trigger on her loudspeaker and bent over gently. "Lopez!" she yelled, directly into Santana's ear, causing distinct aural pain. "Cease your inane, mind-numbing mullings and wide-eyed wall staring. I want no distracting thoughts about boys or the mall, or whatever you underlings daydream about. It's not like you're fathoming eternal verities, now is it? Ha." Sue laughed heartily. "Empty heads equal full trophy cabinets, ya hear? Give me a smile full of starlight and shimmering tinkerbell butts and glue it directly to those lips," she enthused. "Let the blood drain to your faces. We want a permanent blush on those cheeks. Think Raggedy Ann; a simple idol who just happens to share my excellent stance on smallpox vaccinations. We sure as hell could do with a small, ravaging plague to weed out the weak." She snapped her fingers and one of the smallest girls immediately began sobbing. "Think innocence. Think virginal." Upon noticing Santana's expression of contempt, she added: "Lopez, do I have to threaten you with cochineal cheek injections once again?"

Santana begrudgingly pinched her cheeks, grimaced and strained to force a toothy grin. From her reverse position, she watched Sue's upside-down figure walk away and found herself doing exactly the same as her counterpart had done earlier: sticking her tongue out at her superior. Or at least, she would have done, if she hadn't relaxed her leg muscles and slipped. She fell and, with a sickening crack, landed awkwardly on the gym mat beneath her. From her position on the floor she looked up at the rest of the cheerleaders, all hanging bat-like. They all giggled at her and for the fourth time that day, she stifled what would have been a very loud, frustrated scream.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be at Cheerio practice?" Rachel asked with a puzzled look on her face as she tipped her head down and looked up at Quinn through her eyelashes.

"No, I remembered to wear extra blusher today, so I got out of it," Quinn replied smugly, her rosy cheeks rising as she smiled widely.

"I fail to see -"

"Trust me, you don't want to know the lengths Coach Sylvester goes to in order to have us looking like the perfect cheerleaders. She's one tiny, psychotic step away from having everyone's eyebrows tattooed on, just to make us more symmetrical." Quinn raised one already perfect eyebrow.

"Quinn, please, we're in the public eye," Rachel chided under her breath.

Quinn looked down and checked her posture, pondered the considerable distance between them and wondered what the hell Rachel was talking about. "Uh, I'm just standing here."

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically. "The very fact that you haven't picked a fight with me, haven't even implied that I have a supplementary Y chromosome or a subscription to 'Unwanted Hair Removal Weekly', suggests to the daily hallway dwellers that you are at ease in my presence," she said quickly, but clearly.

Frowning, Quinn shook her head. "And your point is?"

"People will be suspicious," Rachel whispered conspiratorially.

"Well if you keep doing that, they will be. Look, if we're going to do this... whatever this is, then they're gonna have to get used to me talking to you. And I say that despite quite liking the idea of putting on a show of hate toward you once a day." Rachel's cheek twitched and Quinn suddenly felt guilty. "Look, I don't really want to do that." Her eyelashes fluttered. "You never know, dating a cheerleader might make you popular."

"I'd rather not be."

"What?" Quinn scoffed.

"I'm fine as I am, thank you." Rachel pouted sternly and hugged her arms around her waist as she went to walk away.

"Hey." Quinn snatched at her arm. "I made the decision that we could be together. That my... weird attraction to you... was okay. So stop whining and ask me out. It's been almost a week now."

"I'd still rather not, if it's all the same to you. So don't expect to receive any overtures from myself, musical or otherwise," Rachel rebuffed.

"You're kidding me, right? This is a joke, yes?" Quinn's smile turned to a scowl. "I admitted to the whole of the Glee Club that I don't hate you, and suddenly you turn your back on me?"

"I haven't exactly had the biggest say in all this. You carelessly laid one on me without any regard for my feelings. Then you did it again, and again. I didn't get a choice and now I'm expected to fall at your feet? Yes, sure, you distinctly bamboozled me with your lips a few times, that's all. I didn't sign a contract to date one Ms Fabray."

"But... do you know who I am? I could have anyone."

"Do _you_ know who _I_ am, Quinn?"

"You're the girl who couldn't sleep or sing after I kissed you." She tried to speak gently but her reply came out with an agitated hiss. "It speaks for itself."

"Yes, true, but I'm also the girl you vilified and mentally lambasted for years, made cry with your harsh, hushed words and cruel actions, someone who still thinks that you might be doing this just to humiliate her."

"I..."

"You think that anything you want will just float into your arms when you desire it? We don't all wake to a chorus of larks, followed by a flurry of woodland creatures entering through the window, dressing you and braiding your hair." Rachel waved vaguely at Quinn's perfect hair and make-up.

"You think my life's a fairy tale, Berry? You could not be _more_ wrong."

"Quit now, Quinn, because I'm not listening." Rachel stormed away, leaving Quinn agog.

* * *

"That was great," Puck enthused like a film director, yanking Rachel from the hall into an empty classroom.

"Are you sure about this?" Rachel rubbed at her temple. "I'd already planned dinner, a show, a boat ride and fireworks for Friday."

"Sure I'm sure." He pulled his shoulders up confidently and raised his hands. "Wait, boat ride?" He blinked with surprised but continued undeterred. "I have a _lot_ of experience with dating bitches."

"Hey," Rachel protested.

"I didn't exactly date you; we just made out."

"Hmm." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Well I don't remember you taking me on any boat rides." He pouted. "I might have liked a boat ride and fireworks. Well a _ride_ and fireworks, anyway." If Puck could have hi-fived himself, he would have. "Listen carefully and I'll tell you my golden rules, Ray-Bay."

Rachel looked touched. "You gave me a moniker."

Puck winced and stepped back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"A nickname. You gave me a nickname, and a non-derogatory one as far as I can tell. "

He shrugged and continued. "Puck's three rules to bagging the babes."

"Why is this so important to you, Noah?"

Puck wrinkled his nose. "Can you not call me that while we're alone? You sound like my hot cousin." Rachel squinted at him suspiciously. "Not blood related. She's my hot cousin's wife. I mean my she's my cousin's hot wife. Hey, you see what you've done to my mind just by calling me by my given name?" He shook his head to re-order his thoughts. "Back to the lesson, my young padawan. Rule one. Avoid physical contact. Though it pains me to suggest it, because I really wanna see it, you totally shouldn't let her kiss or touch you again." His attention strayed for a moment as he licked his lips. "Uh... until you've got her whipped. Rule two. Be hot but be cool. She's got to want you _more_ than you want her."

Rachel coughed. "You didn't answer my question."

Puck held his hand to his chest. "Why can't you see that I just want my girls to be happy?"

"Because it's not true," she said matter-of-factly.

He smiled cheekily. "I would never stand in the way of a hot hook-up."

"And that's what Quinn and I would be? A hot hook-up? I can't envisage it myself. The thought of us together is somewhat... odd."

Puck squinted at her. "You know you're equally as hot as Quinn Fabray, right? In a totally different way but it's _so_ good."

She blushed distinctly. "There is no need to smooth over my lately bruised ego, Noa...Puck. I am what I am. A small town Jewish girl who will one day wow crowds with her blissful ballads and emotion-evoking performances."

"Does that mean you're coming back to Glee Club?" he asked hopefully, then secretly chastized himself for his childish enthusiasm.

"Not necessarily. I have decided that I mustn't let emotion overwhelm my life and that I need to remain focused. Part of that means distance. And after I sang with Quinn -"

"You sang with Quinn? That's kind of huge."

"Mm," Rachel mused. "I can't believe I'm asking this," she sighed. "But what's your third rule?"

He smiled broadly. "Don't let the bitches get you down."

"Well, needless to say, I've been practicing that one for years." She patted him kindly on the arm, unsure of whether to follow his dubious advice or not. "Thank you anyway."

He shrugged and pursed his lips, hands deep in his pockets. "Since my spell in juvie I'm trying to use my bad ass powers for good instead of evil. I'm gonna start looking out for my exes as well as my current honeys."

"Plural?" Rachel cocked an eyebrow.

"Who's she? Is she new?" he frowned.

"Never mind."

* * *

"Santana, how can I explain this to your undersized walnut of a brain?" Sue ran her fingers over her lips. "If you were a 1950s cartoon character, you would be named 'Liability Lopez', your story being that of a Puerto Rican clown who constantly trips over her comedically-oversized feet. You're out. Now take your ineffectual, broken carcass out of my sight." Sue slipped her glasses on and looked down her nose at the Cheerios' former second in command. "Scoot."

"It's just a tiny fracture." Santana held up her wrist, which was now clad in a neatly-molded cast. She'd spent most of the morning in the ER with Principal Figgins, who'd regarded it as a field trip and paid for a full body x-ray of himself posing like Elvis.

"Can you support the body weight of two mid-height girls in a double scorpion?" Sue asked rhetorically. "Let's face it, a handstand would cripple you. The break will take a number of weeks to heal and during that time, your muscles will wither and atrophy. You'll probably become obese having eaten nothing but chips for a month and no one will want to look at you and your crevice sores. Then comes physio and you'll already have missed competitions. To put it kindly, you are _dead_ to me."

"You can't kick me off the squad," Santana begged with passion her undamaged hand on her heart. "I _need_ to be in the Cheerios. Without it, I'm just a regular loser kid that no one will care about."

"Enough of this vile display of prostration," Sue declared as she raised her hands. "Save it for your first court appearance. I'm sure you'll have a few now that your once glittering career is tarnished and torn to _shreds_. You should have thought about all this before you chose to fall; did you never consider that? Did you think of me? No. And right now my discomfiture is reaching its peak and giving me vile gas." Santana grimaced as Sue squirmed in her seat. "The Cheerios have lost a cheerleader... again. My, my. If my skin weren't so moist and taut, this would have given me wrinkles. What am I to do? You can't make a human pyramid without an equilateral triangle. I'm going to have to sub in Monica; she's short for her age so I'll have to dust off the iron maiden for a little stretching session. That's my Saturday night down the pan; no more monster truck rally for poor little Sue here. You've let everyone down with your foolhardiness. My God, haven't you heard of tuck and roll? Don't they teach you even basic paramilitary training in kindergarten these days? They did in mine, but then that did take place in a bunker on an island off the coast of Papua New Guinea. I could kill and gut a tiger by the time I was in short trousers." Santana looked at Sue, completely baffled. "Good times. Good times," Sue mused, eyes skyward and nostrils flaring, as she recalled herself, age two, using a dead echidna for a hat. "Why are you still here, Lopez?"

"I'm sorry." Santana swallowed a sob and blew her nose loudly into a tissue.

Sue held up her hands. "Please. Stop. Your heavy-hearted girl sighs are depleting my precious oxygen; I don't have it bottled and piped in by Peruvian monks for just anyone to consume." She glared menacingly. "And your snivelling is making more of a mess of that uniform than a three-year-old with a mucus-based, nose-bubble cold. As soon as this meeting is over, I expect you to hand in your complete uniform to Becky, who will bring it to me for a ritual _burning_. Feel free to take as you please from the lost and found box; find yourself a nice pair of soiled sweat pants and a matching sweater. I couldn't tell you who has worn those clothes during the numerous decades they have resided here, but, a little advice: I wouldn't stroll anywhere near a UV lamp or naked flame."

Santana's brow furrowed even more as she contemplated this. Her uniform was eighty percent of her status around the school. It was the reason they all wore them so often. The look offered the Cheerios protection, instant notoriety and, consequently, popularity. Without it, she would just be part of the crowd. "What can I do? Please, Coach. I beg you." She clutched at her skirt; it had been part of her life for so long, it was as important as the blankie she had as a baby.

"You know the score; you signed the agreement when you joined up." Sue held aloft Santana's paperwork and sniffed the pages. "The blood in this signature still smells as fresh as the day it was spilled." She dragged her finger across the typed print and read aloud. "'Should any member of the team suffer injury, the coach will have full rights to not only disengage their services, but also shun them from polite society'."

"I could... I could sing like Kurt and Mercedes did."

"Oh! Of course!" Sue grinned widely and raised her arms to the air in a hallelujah. "And we could make a mini Lopez puppet complete with cute teeny pom-poms to conceal your arm cast there."

"Yes." Santana nodded keenly.

Sue's smile dropped. "This is cheerleading, not an audition for Avenue fricken Q."

Her shoulders fell. "There's got to be a way, Coach."

Sue licked her lips. "Never let it be said that I'm not a fair woman. After all, I did win Ohio's Philanthropist of the Year in 2001 for my work re-settling depressed Japanese fishmongers in a disused aqua theme park." She removed her glasses and placed them on the table. "I _may_ have a job for you until the break is healed, but screw it up and you'll be out."

"Anything, Coach." Santana sat forward keenly. "If I'm not a Cheerio, I may as well be dead."

Sue pouted and nodded. "Yup. Nought but the gutter would await should you fail to meet my exacting standards. It's true that I once envisioned you growing up to be part of the Senate, but should you mess this up, your aspirations will have to lie in simply banging one of the senatorial candidates after a series of clichéd but hilarious mishaps not dissimilar to those in the movie 'Maid in Manhattan'. Now, please take yourself, and that dreadful reminder of failure, out of my office. And don't let me down, because, don't forget: I have your DNA," she called, tapping at the blood stained page. "One more mistake and I will clone you and destroy the original."

* * *

[Thursday]

Mercedes stood in the hall with her hands on her hips and said, incredulously: "You did a _what_ in the what now and where and with _whom_?"

"Kissed Rachel... again, after I found her in the auditorium on stage." Quinn indicated with her hands to keep the volume down.

"I heard you the first time; I'm astonished, not deaf," she said bluntly. "What did you think you were doing? Kissing her was what sent Rachel all weird in the first place. Now she'll never come back to Glee."

"We get on okay, don't we? You and I," Quinn said quietly, rubbing at her white-sleeved arm.

"Sure we do, or I would never have taken you into my home last year," Mercedes shrugged.

"I... I think I like her. Rachel I mean."

Mercedes pouted. "You can put your legs in the sleeves of a shirt but that don't make it pants."

"Uhm. What?" She shook her head with delicate bemusement, thinking that, surely, given a large enough shirt and a sewing machine it could certainly become a pair of pants, or a dress, or a tent, or anything for that matter.

"You can't just flip from hating the girl to liking her. How is she ever gonna trust you? Especially after the whole Jesse thing. Sure the rest of us all rail on Rachel sometimes because she gets on our nerves. But with you... it always seemed a lot more personal."

"It's high school: the popular kids pick on the unpopular ones."

"Yeah, I get that. But sometimes ... when you've got your little, whispery speaking voice, you lean in and call her names that no one else can hear. Teasing someone for public status is one thing, but when no one else can hear... that's when you know it's personal."

"She _did_ steal Finn from me."

"Oh come on, girl, are you still clutching onto that scrawny little straw? You slept with Puck, remember? Why don't _you _take responsibility for that for one?"

"You have to admit that she did use her assets to seduce him into a relationship, albeit an asexual one," Quinn protested.

"Oh, _pur_lease. You say po-ta-to, I say pot-kettle-black. Mm?" Mercedes wagged her finger.

Quinn sighed, her shoulders slumping. "How is this ever going to work? She and I are so different."

Mercedes blew air through her pursed lips. "Pft. You guys are like two sides of the same coin. You're both outspoken, self-obsessed, would step over your own grandmothers to get ahead..."

"That's unfair; we're both just a couple of regular girls, who _don't_ like being stepped on."

"Yeah, that too -" Mercedes smiled widely, her point made by Quinn's own admission "- and don't you forget it."

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "So what do I do?"

"If you want her, how about you start by making amends? Level that playing field." Mercedes grinned deviously, then laughed heartily. "But you, girl, are _so_ not gonna like what I'm gonna suggest."

* * *

Quinn purposefully marched down the hall, a large Big Gulp slushie firm in her grasp. Rachel's eyes widened and then closed dramatically as she braced for impact. Instead, she felt the cup being wedged into her hand and, when she looked, she found Quinn standing stock still with arms at her sides, eyes tight shut and fists balled.

"Come on, get it done," Quinn pursed her lips and beckoned with her hand. "Pay me back already."

Rachel was torn; she resented being forced into the situation. She imagined that Quinn expected her to not to proceed, to be the bigger person. Her fingertips were getting cold, and a burning deep inside her belly was urging for revenge. Angrily, she jerked her hand forward. Quinn gasped with expectation, but Rachel, not being familiar with the best slushie action, pulled the cup back too soon and caused only a third of the icy liquid to rise up like a wave and tumble directly onto the floor between them. It splatted, speckling their shoes and peppering Rachel's knee-high socks with pink coloring. With a shudder of a sob, Rachel turned and fled, not even daring to look Quinn in the eye and ran straight into the arms of Kurt.

"Hey, Tweetie Pie, let's get you out of here," he muttered softly into her hair as he gently rubbed her back.

* * *

"So, what caused your little premature dysfunction?" Kurt sat Rachel down in the practice room and pulled up a chair to sit opposite her, patting the back of her hand. "Like her a little too much to exact your revenge?" he joked, not realizing how close to the truth he was.

"No, it's just..." A slow start became a rapid end. "It was my first time and my arm got stiff."

Kurt blinked and pulled at his ear lobe. "We are still talking about the slushie incident, are we not?"

"What?" Rachel frowned then made a face of realization. "Horror! Quinn has kissed me, but I hadn't even contemplated... contemplated... uh..."

"Touching anything further than first base?"

"Thank you, yes." She swept her hair out of her eyes and sat up primly.

"Suits me." He pinched the air. "I have no desire to embark on a mentally-stunting guide to Lesbianism: The Hate Way. Besides, my expertise in dating women ends at: 'Excuse me, would you mind moving? I'd like to get a clearer view of our waiter'."

Rachel smirked. "You should come round to dinner at my house some time."

"Don't you despise me?" He tilted his head to one side as he raised an eyebrow.

Rachel's bottom lip twitched. "Only in the same way a big sister despises her bratty brother."

Kurt's expression glazed with emotion for a fraction of a second. Her sentiment clear was to him. "I feel the same about you. We are somewhat kindred. Given another time, another situation, you could have been the Diana to my Anne of Green Gables."

Rachel smiled, deciding not to argue over a fictional lead role. "My dads have been asking to meet you, probably to, y'know, pass on their sage advice."

"Wh-? Oh." Kurt raised a finger in the air. "Sometimes I completely forget you have gay parents."

"Sometimes I completely forget to remember that my parents _are_ gay. To me they're just two loving people, who both happen to be men."

A smile twitched at the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Good to know. And thank you, I'd very much like to take you up on that some time." He reached over to tenderly pat her knee. "Feeling any better?"

"A little, thank you," she sighed.

"Want some advice?"

"Providing it's not another makeover, I will listen and consider."

"Makeover? No, no. Anyway, Quinn clearly wants you despite your... apparel or style. God that seems like a weird thing to be saying. It is a weird thing to be saying, isn't it?"

"Totally weird. I mean not about her liking me despite my dress sense, which, by the way, there is nothing wrong with, but that she likes me at _all_."

"Don't let her win," Kurt said suddenly.

"What?" Rachel frowned.

"Don't let her win your heart. Don't let her just take what she wants. I've nothing against Quinn, but she's got to learn that she can't just make you like her just like that." He snapped his fingers abruptly. "I mean," he chuckled, "how can she expect you just to fall for her at the drop of a pom-pom? It's absurd. Ridiculous even. Don't give credit to her intentions."

"But I -"

Kurt tapped Rachel on the nose. "Quinn Fabray has to learn that not everyone will succumb to her bewitching wiles and glimmering smile."

* * *

Santana stormed through the door to the choir room and let out a loud scream. Her bag hit the back wall and burst open. Kurt, Tina and Artie stared in fear, while she stamped the floor repeatedly with alternate feet, then took her place and neatly crossed her legs, a stern expression still fixed on her face. Brushing imaginary dust from her pleated skirt, she sat poised as though nothing had happened.

"Jiminy Cricket's dapper pyjamas," Kurt exclaimed under his breath.

Artie nudged at Tina's skull'n'crossbones-socked knee with his gloved hand. "You're a girl -" he whispered "- go and ask her what's wrong."

Tina looked perturbed and coughed into her hand. Nervously fiddling with her necklace, she jumped a few seats to her right so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Santana. "Hey, can -" She felt hands grab hold of her and pull her sharply around. Eyes wide, she expected Santana to strangle her, but realized almost immediately that the embrace was merely a hug. "Oh, hey," she muttered as she put her arms around Santana's back and rubbed soothingly. "It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll help."

"Jeez, girl, how do you get close to any guy with that buckaneer-bondage outfit on? Your corset clips are leaving permanent dents in my ribcage." They pulled apart.

"Is this about Finn?" Tina asked nicely. "After it all came out about you having taken Finn's, y'know, uh, cherry, we all wondered if you wanted him for yourself. I mean... Brittany was Artie's first and I still worry that she'll come after him."

"Oh come on, Brittany was _everyone's_ first," Santana said bitingly. Everyone looked bemused at her outburst. "Forget it."

"But..." Tina began.

"Forget it," she repeated icily.

Quinn breezed in through the door. "San... " She sank down into the chair at Santana's right hand side. "I'm so sorry. I heard."

Kurt raised his hand. "I'm sorry, I must be blunt. What the hell has happened that could cause quite this much hysteria? Did Puck steal your spankies again?"

"He did what?" Santana looked entirely pissed off, clearly unaware of the crime having taken place. "That boy is dead."

"Tell them: it will come out sooner or later," Quinn said quietly with an air of mollification.

Santana tried to cross her arms but the cast got in the way. "I cannot deal with this crap," she yelled.

"We could guess instead. Um... pregnant?" asked Artie.

"Straight?" Kurt snickered.

"Accidentally posted semi-naked pictures of yourself on Facebook when you thought you were posting pictures of your cat massaging your other cat, then had to tell your parents that you were hacked and the pictures were, like, totally photoshopped?" Tina offered only to receive stares from around the room that were even more perplexed than before. "What?"

"Fine." Santana jumped to her feet and turned on the heel of her perfectly white sneakers. "It's just the little matter that, having smashed my wrist, my career is now in jeopardy and Coach Sylvester has, in her infinitely delusional wisdom, decided that I should take over the role of William McKinley High School's..." She swallowed. "I can barely say it... football mascot."

"Ha!" Kurt laughed loudly. "I'm sorry, that was supposed to be an internal scoff; I completely apologize." He semi-composed himself by biting the insides of his cheeks. "How awful for you... to have to dress up as a giant, squashy, cuddly... bulldog." It was almost impossible to prevent his smile from widening; his face turned pink in the process.

"Step any further out of line and I will rip out your voice box, Hummel," Santana shouted, suddenly held back from her imminent pounce by Quinn's hand pressing firmly on her stomach.

"Might be a little hard," said Kurt. "Your big, padded paws will get in the way. I'll merely receive a nice, warm massage. Please direct your attentions to my left scapula," he indicated over his shoulder, "I tend to get a little knotty around that area."

"So what happened to the previous tenant of the mascot suit?" asked Artie, attempting to diffuse the impending hair-pulling fight that Santana and Kurt were about to have.

"Brett got scabies after he broke into the zoo and rode a gorilla for a dare," Tina explained with a grimace as she pulled her long sleeves over her hands. "It's okay, though. I don't think he wore the suit after the itching started... or did he?" She frowned.

"Hey, guys!" Finn bounced through the door, backpack on his shoulder. "Isn't it a wonderful day?"

Puck, Sam and Mike followed close behind. "Dudes and dudettes," Puck hailed.

"Brittany not here yet?" Finn asked the group. "I was kinda hoping we could sit together."

Santana sat back down in her seat heavily, snapped her fingers and raised an eyebrow. "You'll be lucky; she's never found her way here on her own before."

"And Mr Schuester's late," Quinn sighed.

"Oh," Finn said wistfully and, since the group had fallen silent, he decided to talk about his current favorite subject. "Anyone got any ideas where I can take Brittany on a date? I was thinking Breadstix but then I thought about taking her to a farm to, y'know, feed and hold the animals. Maybe we could do something involving corn?"

"One day Finn is going to 'M Night Shyamalan' us and reveal that he's _actually_ Kentucky Amish." Kurt pursed his lips.

Finn was lost in a little world of his own devising. "We have these really deep conversations. She makes you think, you know? Like... what's that question bigamists use to empty their heads?

"Buddhists," Kurt corrected.

"Yeah, those guys too."

"Study night for you two must be completely mentally... challenging," Kurt smirked.

"'What's the sound of one hand clapping?'" Artie offered a small, self-satisfied smile on his lips.

"That's it! And that other one about no one being able to hear you scream when you fall from a tree in space. Except Brittany's are: 'Where does the wax go when you burn a candle?' and 'Is this the same rainwater as we had on Tuesday?'" Finn's eyes glimmered with pride.

"She asked me: 'Why can't we pick up shadows?'" Tina offered with an outstretched hand.

"I always kinda liked that one," Santana said under her breath, her shoulders sagging.

Quinn twisted round and whispered to Santana: "Is this why Finn's been looking super vacant since he and Brittany started dating?"

"No," she replied. "I've been stealing his pens and shoelaces. He thinks he has his own personal poltergeist." They smirked and bumped fists gently.

"Brittany!" Finn jumped to his feet and pulled her over to sit on his lap.

"Thanks, Finn," she cooed.

He shook his head at Brittany, indicating for her to explain. "For...?"

"You left a trail of Sour Patch Kids from my class to here... didn't you?"

Finn still looked confused until he picked up his bag to find sugar gummies falling out of a rip in the bottom. He shrugged and smiled crookedly at her. "Sweet."

Santana looked like she was going to pop. "What the hell, I cut a hole in his bag and it turns out to be a _good_ thing?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Huh?" asked Finn, who had been just out of hearing range.

Brittany caught Santana's eye. Her lip twisting, she said: "Uh, who would have thought a hole in your backpack would be a good thing?" She faked a chuckle.

"'Sup, dogs." Mercedes cruised into the room.

Kurt crossed his legs and rested his elbow on his knee. "Don't mention anything canine-related, Mercedes; Santana has been hired as the Cheerios' personal furry. And she really does bite _and _scratch. Though the flea results aren't back yet."

"Mr Schuester!" Artie exclaimed with joy. "So nice to see you." He was glad of the distraction.

Will smiled. "Uh, hi, guys. Great that you're all here."

"Almost all," Quinn muttered.

"Sorry I'm late. Let's get straight to it. We've got two weeks before sectionals, and I know I promised I'd give you more of a say, but I need you to start bringing the goods to the table. Has anyone had any ideas for this week's theme?" He leaned back against the piano and folded his arms. Everyone looked a little blank. "Come on, it's 'Second Chances', what could be easier?"

"Oh, I don't know, anything that wasn't quite so lame," Mercedes tutted.

"I don't get it; usually you're all bursting at the seams with ideas." Will shook his head.

Sam raised a hand. "I think you'll find that pretty much all Rachel, Mr Schue. She used to fake our voices when your back was turned and, for the record, I would never suggest anything by Tina Turner." He shook hair out of his eyes. "Don't we need another team member since we're one man down?"

"_Don't_ call her a man!" Quinn cried out with a scowl.

Sam reacted like he'd been burned. "Whoa. Person! Person down." He shouted back like he was having a flashback to Vietnam.

"Good point, Sam. Everyone, please keep trying to recruit new members." Will clenched his fists. "But come on: song suggestions, guys? Please try."

"I've always thought 'Never Gonna Give You Up' was about a man being with a woman no matter how she treats him." Artie pressed his hands together and sat up in his chair.

"I hardly think that rickrolling the audience is gonna win us points with the judges." Quinn's lip curled.

"'Please Forgive Me' by Bryan Adams?" Artie tried again.

"I'm gonna hurl." Mercedes clutched her stomach. "How about 'Rihanna's 'Hate That I Love You''?"

"How is that part of the theme?" Puck asked.

"It's part of my theme of singing songs that don't suck with my voice." She snapped her fingers and pouted.

Will took a deep breath and dragged his hand along his jaw. "Look, seeing as I was late today, we'll extend this deadline over the weekend to Monday. Please try and come up with a song you're _all_ happy to sing."

"Why _were_ you late, Mr Schue?" asked Tina curiously.

"Heh, well it was the weirdest thing; I'm pretty sure I hallucinated or something, but I could have sworn I saw my ex-wife out by the gates of the school." He rubbed at his temple and laughed. "And she looked just like Coach Sylvester."

In the corner of the room a beeping started, then another, this time over by Quinn. "Oh, crap," she uttered. Then a third beep. All three cheerleaders pulled out their pagers and read the identical message.

"Where the hell do they store _those_?" Puck asked with bemused amusement.

"I'm guessing that's Coach Sylvester's equivalent of the bat signal," said Artie, watching the three girls file out of the door.

* * *

Quinn, Santana and Brittany strode across the football field towards their team, who were being addressed by Sue. "Desperate times, people. No sooner have we lost one of our own -"

"Still here," Santana protested with an impatient wave of her hand and stomp of her foot.

"- than we have been offered an underground cheer-off," Sue continued unabated.

"Wouldn't that be dark? Wouldn't we fall over?" Brittany whispered to Quinn.

"She means we've been challenged outside regular competitions. No rules. No limits," Quinn explained.

"I received this call to arms just this afternoon." Sue held up a note. "And we are _not_ going to back down!" She rallied the girls. "Okay, now plans of action -"

The sound of chanting voices echoed from the bleachers. "Grab that o-b-l. Now dot that i. And grab that t-e-r-a-t-e," the Lima AllStars cheered, all dressed in blue and white, their pom-poms shimmering under the overhead lights.

"How about you grab a clue?" Santana waved her finger at the group, making sure to keep her injured arm behind her back. "We are going to _destroy_ you," she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The group descended to the field and the evident captain of the group, who was the clearly defined head bitch in charge, stepped forwards. Hands on hips, tossing her long auburn hair, she said: "Oh. My. God. Santana Lopez, as I live and breathe."

"Reagan Kelly, as I die and spew," Santana threw back.

Quinn stepped forward, her posture reflecting Reagan's. "We haven't crossed paths with you and your sisterhood of the traveling tramps in a long, long time," she belittled.

"Shouldn't you be at home breast-feeding, Fabray?"

Quinn's cheek twitched but she didn't rise to it. "Isn't it about time you had that spirit stick surgically removed from your ass, Kelly?"

"People, people, we are friendly foes, remember?" The blonde, slim-figured coach emerged from the shadows and skipped down the steps. As she advanced towards the groups, she watched as one particular person reeled back in disgust.

"_No_!" Sue let out an extended low growl and pointed a lean finger.

"Nice to see you too, Sue." Terri Schuester smiled broadly as she smoothed down her tight-fitting pink tracksuit. Sue looked to be frozen, dumbstruck, but that didn't stop Terri thrusting her hand out, expecting a handshake.

Sue looked like she'd just stumbled upon a leper colony. "Why?" she uttered with disbelief.

"As my first foray into the world of coaching, I'd like nothing more than to start by competing with the best."

Sue pursed her lips, her jaw tightening visibly. The compliment had softened her just a little and a sparkle showed in her eyes. "Despite not wishing to even share the same zip code as anyone who has witnessed William Schuester's naked body, let alone been in physical contact with his male paraphernalia," she shuddered, "it would be my pleasure for my Cheerios to turn that vacuous smile of yours upside down by out cheering your pathetic team."

"Well... fabulous." Terri forced the grin to remain on her face. "Shall I set the time and you set the place? Shall we say Saturday? Is seven o'clock okay for you?"

"Fine." Sue's distaste still showed in her facial expression. "I choose the parking lot by our school. That way if any of your team displeases me in any way, I can mow you down in my car. I'm warning you now: I keep snow chains on my car _all _year round." She drew a circle in the air between them.

"Oh, we won't disappoint." Terri put her hands on her hips confidently.

"One more clause in our verbal agreement: I get to choose the judge," she smirked knowingly.

"Deal."

* * *

[Friday]

"Hey, hot stuff." Puck ran up behind Santana and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked across the parking lot. "So, are you gonna pucker up for the Puckster?"

"Not today, rudeboy," she replied sombrely.

"Come on, baby," he ran in front of her and, turning to walk backwards, flashed a toothy smile. "A boy needs an outlet."

"No one has _ever_ tried to lure me into bed by calling me an _outlet_ before." She looked at him indignantly. "I'm so hot for you right now," she said sarcastically.

"But my burgeoning libido needs to be nurtured," he whined.

"Well, just don't _burgeon_ anywhere near me or I'll hack it off."

He winced. "Feeling low?" he asked with true concern in his eyes.

"B bailed on me _again_. She was supposed to stay over tonight but instead she's going out with _Lurch_. I feel like I've been dumped; I was always Britt's... best friend or whatever first, but now I feel like she's Finn's girlfriend first." She shrugged despondently.

"Finn's canceled on our boys only game night too."

"Poker?"

"Pokémon," he replied honestly.

"Nerds."

"Beautiful, beautiful nerds who play football and rock your world." He played a little air guitar with accompanying rock-out facial expressions.

Santana sneered as she shot him a cold stare. "Nuh uh. You guys suck right now."

Puck saw this as a challenge. "How do I cheer you up? Erm. Oh. A joke. How does a party planner get arrested?"

Santana mulled it over. "I don't know, how does a party planner get arrested?"

"By throwing a hoedown," Puck grinned.

"Lord, that is the worst," she smirked.

"Made you smile though." He grinned but, on noticing that she was almost instantly miserable again, bent over to force his arm under her knees and pick her up. Clutching her as close to his chest as he would a football, he made a dash for the school entrance. "And Puckerman has the ball, he's going for it," he called out like a sports presenter. He ducked and dived between pupils. "He's running like a dream as he,ooh, penetrates the backfield. Oh wow, he's found a tight hole and he is _sli_ding through." Santana joggled up and down in his arms and couldn't help but laugh as Puck took the steps two at a time. Rounding a corner he slid to a stop and bounced her to the floor, right beside her locker. "He _bangs_ it in. He scores! Touchdown. The crowd goes wild." He made the noise of a quietly cheering crowd. "What are you looking at, freakoid?" he growled at, and then blew a kiss to, a freshman who was staring.

A wise-crack should have found its way into Santana's mind but she was still laughing too much and instead said: "Thanks for dropping me off at my locker."

"You know what you need?" Puck asked with a nod and pout.

"An unbroken wrist? My girl back at my side?" she replied mildly scathingly.

"A good, old-fashioned prank." He crossed his arms and nodded. "And I know _exactly_ who needs to be the target."

* * *

"Hey." Quinn looked down at Artie.

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me, or is there a midget standing behind me?" He held his hand to his chest and tried to look over his shoulder.

"Of course I'm talking to you." She sat down at the lunchroom table and placed a pack of Reese's Cups on his tray.

"Uh." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you going to hire me to maim someone? Because I may have embellished my ninja karate skills just a little. Saying that, I might be able to leave some good tyre marks."

"I need your advice," she said with a soft sigh.

If he'd been wearing a tie, he would have felt the need to straighten it. "Okay," he coughed. His popularity was increasing exponentially just by having the head cheerleader at his table.

"You got Tina back recently, didn't you?"

"Sure, I kissed her in the blackout at the party and she remembered what she was missing." He beamed proudly.

"Well that action didn't really work in my favor." Quinn took hold of her necklace and played with it. "You're a romantic, honest guy, aren't you?"

"Are you asking me out?" Behind his thick framed glasses his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Because, although I'm flattered -"

"Why do people assume that if I talk to them, it's because I think they're hot?"

"Because you don't talk to someone unless you think they're hot," he explained. "Unless you're telling them to move or die."

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Good point." She coughed into her hand delicately, mildly embarrassed. "I was wondering if you knew how I could, uh, woo Rachel."

"You really want her, don't you?" He smiled. "That's nice. You both need someone who can match the strengths of your respective personalities."

"Then you don't think I'm making a huge mistake?"

"No, Quinn." He pressed at his glasses. "Why would I?"

"I guess I keep looking for a reason not to like her."

"If you like her, just tell her, in real words."

"She won't talk to me." Quinn shook her head.

"Simple, then," he grinned. "Give her a letter."

She clearly liked the idea because she immediately looked hopeful. "Thanks, Artie, you're one of the greatest guys I know."

As she got up to leave, Artie caught her attention. "Um, Quinn, can I get that in writing? No rush, but there's some people in this school I'd _really_ like to show it to."

* * *

The hallway began to fill as students filtered their way outside and into the lunchroom. Working her cheerleading uniform for the last time, Santana flirted with the boys, receiving purrs of approval. A last hurrah. Spying Brittany, she happily approached, until Finn stepped in between them and planted a long kiss on Brittany's lips. Santana grimaced, clearly hurting inside, and walked on. A song came into her head that she couldn't help but sing. "There are worse things I could do, than go with a boy or two. Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy and no good. I suppose it could be true, but there are worse things I could do." She rounded the corner and Becky took her hand, guiding her into the girls changing room. "I could flirt with all the guys; smile at them and bat my eyes." She slipped off her uniform as Becky shielded her eyes. "Press against them when we dance -" the skirt landed on Becky's head "- make them think they stand a chance. Then refuse to see it through." Santana stood in her underwear and waited for her new outfit to be passed to her. "That's a thing I'd never do. I could stay home every night; wait around for Mr. Right. Take cold showers every day and throw my life away on a dream that won't come true. I could hurt someone like me, out of spite or jealousy. I don't steal and I don't lie, but I can feel and I can cry. A fact I'll bet you never knew." Santana pulled on the fluffy suit, followed by the oversized head. She looked at herself in the mirror. "But to cry in front of you... that's the worst thing I could do."

Santana gulped away her revulsion. "I feel like a dork."

"Get used to it, punk," Becky shouted without remorse.

* * *

"Hey." Brittany bounced up and sat opposite Rachel, who was staring at her lunch with a frown.

"Has Quinn sent you?" Rachel scanned the room until she found Quinn, who was sitting on her own looking contemplative; their gazes locked for a moment. "Because, if she has, I don't want to hear it."

"Sent me here for what?"

Rachel stabbed at her salad angrily, almost disappointed. "Oh, it doesn't matter; I just thought she would have tried to talk to me again by now."

Brittany leaned in. "Were you born a Jew, or did you have to learn it?"

"That's quite the theological conundrum, Brittany! Do you really want to talk about that right now? In the lunch room?" Rachel began to pull her diary out of her satchel. "We could set a date and time if -"

"I don't really want to talk about any kind of drum. My mom just told me that when I start a conversation with someone, I should ask them a question about themselves."

"Very nice. Next time, perhaps, ask something a little less complicated, like: 'How are you?'"

"Awesome." Brittany mouthed the question, practising for later. "Please come back to Glee," she said suddenly, causing Rachel to almost choke on a shred of lettuce.

"Thank you for the request, but my efforts towards becoming McKinley's first anti-truancy agent have been quite fruitful. Principal Figgins explained that I can have the title as long as it doesn't cost him anything." Rachel shot Brittany a winning smile. "I plan on visiting repeat offenders at dawn and singing them uplifting songs. It was Coach Sylvester's idea, actually; she said that my voice could wake the dead. I assume she meant that kindly." She frowned. "Not to mention the petition I'm gathering together to bring back prohibition in Ohio. So I'm far too busy to think about Glee."

Brittany pouted. "It's just... I really like dancing. It makes me feel all free and stuff, and we haven't got enough people."

Rachel pressed her lips together. "Sorry, Brittany."

"I know that I'm the reason you left. After all, I am with Finn now and you're still in love with him. It must be hard for you to see us together."

Rachel looked sweetly confused and spoke like she was informing a young child that his dog had gone to live 'on a farm'. "Um. I'm not sure how you'll take this, Brittany, but you're not the reason I left and I'm not in love with Finn. Agreed, he and I made a formidable couple, but we were too comfortable together; he didn't challenge me. Besides, it became clear that we shared quite different outlooks on matters such as abstinence, hygiene and musical melodramas."

"I'm sure what you just said was very pretty." Brittany nodded slowly. "Please come back to Glee anyway. We need you."

"Well, it's nice to be wanted for once." Resting her elbows on the table, Rachel placed her chin on her interlaced fingers. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Quinn was leaving the room, her hips swaggering and her ponytail swaying.

Brittany smiled sweetly and leaned over. "If you need me, here's my card."

"_You_ have a _card_?" Rachel was taken aback.

"What? No." She looked a little lost for a moment. "I thought it was just an expression like 'I got yo back, mofo'." Brittany clicked the fingers on both hands with attitude and bit her bottom lip. "But, y'know, more polite."

* * *

Quinn held the letter tight in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she marched purposefully down the hall. She didn't need to work out which was Rachel's locker; that was made abundantly clear by the presence of a spray can in Azimio's outstretched hand. X literally marked the spot.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Quinn pulled at his varsity jacket. He stepped back to reveal the words: 'BERRY'S CHERRIES' written in pink paint and a scrawl resembling a pair of pert breasts. "Ugh, you are such a child," she exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm just brightening up the hall; it needed a little color. May I inject a little color into your life, pretty one?" He began to stroke her arm.

"Get lost," she spat. Azimio laughed and left. Quinn looked back at the locker, suddenly nervous in anticipation of Rachel's disappointment. Using the only available thing to hand, Quinn pressed the envelope to the locker door and began rubbing away the evidence.

"Quinn?"

"Ber...chel," Quinn stuttered.

"Berchel. Oh, a new name for me, how simply delightful." Rachel spoke without a hint of humor. "So this is how it's going to be, is it?" she said to Quinn. "I snub you, so you defile my belongings?"

"It was Azimio." Quinn attempted to defend herself.

"Oh, come on, do you really expect me to believe that a degenerate neanderthal like Azimio would, firstly, use _anything _the color of bubblegum; secondly, correctly apply an apostrophe to my name, and lastly, pluralize cherries with an 'i-e-s' instead of the erroneous, if slightly more aesthetically pleasing, option of 'y-s'?" Rachel crossed her arms. "In addition, you have the evidence all over your hands. I rest my case."

Quinn first looked to her smudged fingertips, then down to see the spray can still turning in circles where Azimio had dropped it. "I wanted to give you this." Quinn held up the squashed, pink-smeared letter.

"What is it? A crude drawing? A coupon for a taster session at Marty's dairy funhouse and burger emporium? I'll pass, thank you."

A fully bulldog-suited Santana walked up beside them and stood next to Quinn, her large furry paws resting on her hips. "Hey, nice handiwork, Q. I knew this crush over baby Snuffleupagus, here, wouldn't last. It might be the one thing that makes me happy today."

"Wait. You're the one calling _me_ a hairy animal with big nose?" Rachel looked Santana up and down with disdain.

"Hey, at the end of the day, I can take this off. You can't."

"Santana," Quinn chided under breath.

Anger rose in Rachel once again. She spotted two students walking past with Big Gulps in their hands, and so stepped out to intercept. First apologizing, she grabbed a cup in each hand and threw the slushies in Santana's and Quinn's faces simultaneously. She handed the cups back to the students. "Much obliged; have a good day. That much corn syrup isn't good for you anyway. I may have saved you from cavities in your respective mouths." Turning, Rachel walked away.

Quinn stood in shock with crushed ice dripping down her neck. She glared at Santana. "What did you have to say that for? Look at us. Rachel's never going to talk to me now."

Santana's large, shiny nose fell down over her eyes. Through the insufficient gap, she groaned. "I have slushie pooling in the bottoms of my dog legs. I'm officially dead inside. My life is over."

Quinn shook herself off and lifted Santana's costume head by an ear. "Well I hope your current situation really gives you _paws_ for thought." Stealing a slushie, Quinn flung it into Santana's already dripping face. "And, just so you know, you look like frickin Gizmo, except half as cute and twice as dumb."

* * *

Finn took Brittany by the hand and checked the map. He guided her through the trees until they came out the other side down the side of a grassy knoll.

"Are you sure this is where Puck said the restaurant was?" Brittany asked, looking at the sleazy motel and parking lot.

"Yeah, he said it's like a theme thing, like urban and stuff. Oh, look, it's just down here." He pointed excitedly to an arrowed sign. Once they passed it, as if on cue, the board flopped down and landed on the ground. Over behind one of the trucks, the faint sound of giggling could be heard. "Do you hear crickets?" he asked with a frown. "Oh. This is it." Finn raised his arms and pointed at the words over the entrance which read 'The Truck Stop'. "I think it's supposed to be ironic or something because it's not really a truck."

He guided Brittany up the steps and through the door. It slammed behind them and they looked around at the four metal walls, stacked high with cardboard boxes. "Finn, this is so exciting. I've never been the only one in a restaurant before, except that one time when I got locked in Taco Bell for four days, but that wasn't so exciting and I got really fat."

"What's that noise?" Finn tipped his head to one side.

"The ironic engine?" Brittany offered.

"You are so smart," he smiled.

* * *

Santana stood agape as she watched the truck drive away. The sheet bearing the name of the fake restaurant flapped in the wind. "I can _not_ believe they fell for that."

"I know, how dumb do you get?" Puck asked, tickling her in the ribs.

"So where's the truck going?" she asked, bent over with laugher. "Findlay or something?"

"Atlanta."

"Atlanta freakin' Georgia?" Santana began beating at his back with her arms. "What the _hell_ did you do that for?"

"What? It's like an hour away or something." He winced in pain. "Isn't it?"

"Try ten." She pursed her lips and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"What?"

"Run, Forrest, run," she pointed in the direction of the truck.

"Oh yeah." He sprinted off, shouting for the driver to stop.

* * *

"Rachel," Quinn hissed, holding onto her woolen hat as she tipped her head back. "Come to the window at once. This isn't funny." Quinn unbuttoned her coat and picked up a twig from the ground to hurl at Rachel's bedroom window. It smacked the pane of glass hard. "Don't leave me out here like an idiot." She rubbed at her eye with a gloved hand. "Fine, if you won't talk to me like a normal person, I'll have to do the unthinkable and sink to your level." She breathed deeply, and then, very quietly, began to sing. "Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you. Caught up in circles confusion is nothing new. Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind. Suitcase of memories, time after... sometimes you picture me; I'm walking too far ahead. You're calling to me, I can't hear what you've said. Then you say: 'Go slow'. I fall behind. The second hand unwinds." Her voice became stronger, more confident with every line. She felt empowered by singing in the open air. "If you're lost you can look and you will find me. Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time. If you're lost you can look and you will find me. Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time."

"After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray. Watching through windows -" Quinn glanced upwards to see if Rachel was watching yet "- you're wondering If I'm okay. Secrets stolen from deep inside. The drum beats out of time." She balled her fists tight. "If you're lost, you can look and you will find me. Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you I'll be waiting. Time after time." Behind her, something cracked and Quinn stopped singing in surprise. "Mr Berry?"

"Sorry, Quinn, that was awful of me to listen in." He walked around the side of the house. "Beautiful voice you have there."

"You know who I am?"

"Of _course_ I do. Hiram and I try to attend every New Directions performance. We wouldn't miss it for the world." Leroy smiled. Um -" he looked up to Rachel's window "- I'm afraid she's gone out. If you were..." He frowned, not quite understanding why Quinn was there at all.

Quinn looked a little bit like a deer in the headlights. "I didn't, I mean, I wasn't serenading her, or anything like that. I was just, uh, _bored_," she offered lamely with raised hands.

Leroy shrugged and smiled. "Do you want to come in and wait?"

* * *

Rachel knocked with trepidation and exhaled slowly. The door swung wide.

"Oh, hi, Mrs Fabray."

"Garner now, sweetie," Judy corrected, tapping her index finger on the door frame impatiently.

Rachel blinked ferociously. "Oh, I... uh, is Quinn home?"

"And you are?"

"Rachel Berry," she replied almost standing to attention.

Judy's expression was that of someone scuffling about in the deep dark cellar of her mind. "Uh, sure. Raquel."

"Rachel. R-a-_c_-_h_-e-l-B-e-r-r-y." Rachel corrected, enunciating each letter with particular zeal.

"The Jew girl?"

"I can assure you that although I am part of the same contingent of people that gave us the young man who impregnated your daughter, you need feel no fear in accepting me into your home. No form of coitus or intimate union of any kind will take place once Quinn arrives. Not that any _'fabies'_ could be conceived that way, anyhow." Rachel chuckled to herself, alone in the joke. "So may I be admitted into your undoubtedly lovely home to wait?"

Judy looked utterly perplexed, as though Rachel had just explained the nature of the universe. "Sure," she drawled, "you can wait in her room. Top of the stairs, third door on the right."

Rachel stepped in and looked around. "Thank you, Mrs F-, uh Ms Garner."

"Call me Judy; it's a darn sight better than having you remind me of the divorce every two minutes."

"Certainly... divorce?" Rachel looked perturbed, then remembered herself. "Apologies, I shouldn't pry. It's just that Quinn never mentioned -"

"My d-i-v-o-r-c-e? No, I expect she wouldn't. Third door on the right," she reiterated with a significantly raised eyebrow and hands on her hips.

Rachel swallowed and nodded.

* * *

Finn scratched at his head. "Uhm, Brittany, it's been at least an hour, I think that we really are in a truck. We got tricked." They were definitely on the move.

"Maybe it's just self-service?" she suggested sweetly.

He snapped his fingers. "Well it certainly can be!" Smiling, he flattened his hair with the palms of his hands. Dragging over a large box he set it down in the middle as a table, then drew up another box for Brittany to sit on. Leaping forward he grabbed a rag and draped it over his forearm. "Would the madam care to try the, uh -" he ripped open a few boxes"- Oreos ala chips?"

She tossed her hair and sat primly on her makeshift seat, playing along. "Thank you, I will, waiter."

"Perhaps, a little Gatorade to wash it down? Grape or Fruit Punch?" He rested both bottles on his arm to show her the choice. She pointed with a delicately extended finger. "Excellent choice." He untwisted the cap and handed it to her.

* * *

Quinn found Rachel's room without issue; it was marked with a name plate just like one you might find on a professional actress' dressing room door. She entered cautiously, first noting that Rachel had a thing for mood lighting given the numerous lamps dotted around the room. She took a moment to calm herself upon noticing that her heart was beating rapidly, and sat on the edge of Rachel's bed. Posters from a multitude of musicals lined the walls. The room reminded her of candy and cupcakes, all bright colors and cutesy bears. It wasn't as theatrical as she had expected: no stage, no curtain, no light bulbs framing the dressing table mirror and no self-dedicated shrine. Even the four poster bed was plain white wood; very understated. The room felt like a metaphor for Rachel's character; deep down, under the projection of narcissism and behind closed doors, she was just a regular girl.

Grabbing a multicolored striped cushion, Quinn held it to her stomach and began to watch the clock on the wall. "Get yourself home, Rachel. I'm only going to stay here so long before I chicken out."

* * *

Rachel walked around Quinn's room, hands held firmly behind her back. She wanted to make sure that she wouldn't accidentally touch anything. She looked over at the large French-style, crafted wooden bed and wondered if Quinn had chosen the furniture herself; whether the baroque patterned wallpaper had been her bold suggestion. She stumbled across a floppy, green, woolen frog and picked it up. "Hey, little guy, is your mommy coming home soon? I really need to talk to her." Rachel's heart dropped when she noticed that the toy had a plastic hospital bracelet secured tightly around its upper arm. Her forehead creased; she didn't have to read the text to know whose name was on it. She put the frog back and patted its head kindly.

* * *

Quinn approached the window to look out for Rachel, her breath forming a vapor on the glass. Starting at a single point, she pressed her index fingertips to the window and drew up, out and down to make another point. Shaking her head, she wiped the heart away, sat on the ledge, and sighed.

* * *

Rachel moved away from the window. The symbol she had carefully drawn faded and quickly disappeared. Still distracted by the décor of Quinn's room, her foot caught on the waste basket by the writing desk. Dropping to her knees, she gathered all the scattered, scrunched up pieces back into the can. Spotting the envelope Quinn had tried to give her earlier, she picked it up and peeked inside. Unfurling the papers she found it to be a real letter, written in Quinn's perfect copperplate hand. Her hands fumbled a little and she clutched the pages a little too tight. Sitting back on her heels, she exhaled nervously and trepidatiously began to read the letter.

_'Dear Rachel,'_ the first stumbling block - it caused her to stop and swallow hard - Quinn so rarely addressed Rachel by her first name, if ever. '_At first I wanted to apologize, then I wanted to hit you,'_ Rachel rolled her eyes, _'then I wanted to apologize again. I'm still feeling that way now, so you're in luck and will actually receive one. I am truly sorry for how I treated you, how I do still treat you, even despite my feelings.'_ She bit her lip. _'You've always led your life living up to the expectations you set for yourself, whereas I have let myself be guided and ruled by goals set by other people. I so admire you for that.'_ Momentarily, Rachel's hands dropped to her knees; she needed to compose herself before she could continue.

_'I bet you've never blinked an eye at having a relationship with a woman. Okay... maybe you have, but I'm guessing your only fear would be your future agent typecasting your roles. I, on the other hand, have never even considered it; it was never an option. This all crept up on me and I hated myself for seeing you with these new eyes, for wanting to be around you when everyone else seemed to push you away. An anger rose in me; it became unbearable. So much so that, every time I saw you, I blamed you for this heat inside my chest. I took it out on you, and I never stopped, because you took it. You suffered me. How did you do that? How do you do that?'_

Rachel spoke aloud to the letter. "Anger is an emotion best saved for the stage." She read on. _'Please understand how hard these things are for me to say, and not just because I've hurt you in the past. I admire you for your confidence, your bull-headed attitude, and for standing up to me... someone who was supposed to be your friend. I don't want to let you down anymore. No more excuses. I don't know how to get you to believe me, but I really, really like you. There: I said it. I. Like. You.'_ Rachel felt her stomach twist and roll, like a pleasant hunger._'You're staring at me right now.'_ Rachel frowned with confusion. _'You look like you want to stab me with that salad fork you're holding like Neptune holds his trident. There's really no doubt that you resent me over this since your gaze is burning holes in my retinas. I'll finish here, get out of your sight. If you need me to leave Glee Club so you can re-join, I'll do it; they can't win without you. See you around, Quinn.'_

Rachel stared at the last two letters beneath Quinn's name: _'xo'._ At the same time as feeling honored that Quinn had spent so much time writing the letter, Rachel berated herself for the evil glare she'd given her at lunch. There was so much more she would have liked to hear.

* * *

"Finn?" Brittany said with a yawn, the gentle motion of the truck having a soporific effect.

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

He turned over one of the boxes and his eyes lit up. "Atlanta!"

"I've always wanted to visit an underwater city," said Brittany excitedly as she snuggled into Finn's side.

"Oh my God, me too," he beamed.

Grabbing his face, Brittany pulled his lips towards hers. As they kissed, he smiled happily. "Now you have to sing me to sleep," she said candidly. "I normally have my Barney tape, but seeing as we're on the road, will you sing something?"

"Uh, sure." He grabbed his jacket and folded it up so she could use it as a pillow. Wracking his brain, he tried to think of a song he knew by heart that was about sleep. Feeling a coin in his pocket, he tossed it in the air. It pinged when it hit the roof. "You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies lit up the world as I fell asleep." As he walked around the space, he tapped boxes in time to the rhythm in his head. "'Cause they fill the open air and leave teardrops everywhere. You'd think me rude, but I would just stand and stare."

"I'd like to make myself believe, that planet Earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep. 'Cause everything is never as it seems. 'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs as they tried to teach me how to dance. A foxtrot above my head. A sock-hop beneath my bed. The disco ball is just hanging by a thread. I'd like to make myself believe, that planet Earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep. Because everything is never as it seems. Leave my door open just a crack, because I feel like such an insomniac. Why do I tire of counting sheep? When I'm far too tired to fall asleep?" Brittany curled up on her side and smiled.

"To ten million fireflies, I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes. I got misty eyes as they said farewell. But I'll know where several are, if my dreams get real bizarre, because I saved a few and I keep them in a jar." Brittany held out her hand and took Finn's so she could guide him down to lie down beside her. He lowered his voice to a whisper as they closed their eyes. "I'd like to make myself believe, that planet Earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep, because my dreams are bursting at the seams."

* * *

Deciding that she had far outstayed her welcome, Rachel bounded down the stairs and coughed for attention. Judy came out into the hallway, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Yes?" She looked at Rachel like she was a bellhop to whom she didn't want to give a tip.

"I think it's time I'd better go now. It's late and my parents will be worried."

"Well if you hear from Quinn tell her I'm taking a val-" Judy paused and rethought her words, "vitamin and going to bed. Before she left she had been singing incessantly, time after time after time... my head is still throbbing now. So thank you for being so quiet." She looked suspiciously at Rachel. "You didn't steal anything, did you?"

"No. What on earth would I steal?"

"You're right, what would you steal? There's barely anything left." Judy waved her hand through the air whilst mouthing the words: 'rat bastard'. "Perhaps I should fake an insurance claim," she said, though she hadn't realized she'd said it out loud.

"Um." Rachel eased on her coat, feeling the awkwardness. "Thank you for letting me wait. It was much appreciated." Judy pulled back the front door, and Rachel stepped through into the chilly night.

"Would you kindly grant me a favor?" She frowned and bit her lip, distinctly unhappy with what she was about to suggest. It felt necessary. "Please don't mention I came here tonight."

* * *

"If you say so, Quinn," Leroy replied. "But I'm really not happy with lying..."

Quinn drew a flat line in the air with her hand. "No lying. It's not like she's going to ask: 'Did Quinn visit?"

He nodded slowly, a little uncertain. "If she doesn't ask me directly, I won't say, but if she does, I will tell her the truth, okay? I can't hide things from my daughter."

"I..." Quinn sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and thought about it. She decided not to push any further. "Okay, Mr Berry." She stepped outside and turned around to face him. "Thank you."

"Do you need more layers? A can of mace or an alarm? We keep spares. Or I could walk you home... actually, wait, I should really walk you home. How stupid of me." He turned around to fetch his coat.

"I'm fine, really, it's not far at all." She smiled at his overprotective nature. "I might even call my mom to come get me," she lied. "Goodnight."

"Goodbye and goodnight. Take care, honey."

* * *

"Lie? Sure, I don't care." Judy tipped back the rest of her mojito and slammed the door in Rachel's face, causing her to reel back and almost fall off the stoop.

* * *

[Saturday]

Finn and Brittany skipped across the street. "You remind me of my old tree house," Brittany cooed, "and it just makes me want to climb up you."

"That's, like, the best compliment I've ever had." Finn finished his ice cream and grabbed her hand. "What now? We've been to the aquarium."

"I can't believe we were the millionth customers and got in for free." Brittany was wearing a crown of dancing dolphins.

"I know, right! It was sweet. And they let us name that new species of fish. Flatfacepunkybutt. I think it has a good ring to it."

"What now?" Brittany asked, looking around.

"Hey." The man's voice came from the distance.

They both turned around to see a film crew setting up a shot. "Us?" they said simultaneously.

"Yeah, you. Two of our cast got sick. You kids ever dreamed of being in the movies?"

They both shrugged and smiled at each other. "Sure!"

* * *

Santana poked Puck in the chest. "There is no way I'm going to the cheer-off in that damned dog suit."

"Can't you borrow a uniform? Don't you have a spare?" he asked with a pout.

"You've sent my best friend halfway across America, and Quinn is _so_ not talking to me right now. Coach Sylvester completely cleared out my locker, and even sent Becky to break into my house. So no, I can't borrow and no, I don't have a goddamned spare. And although I have it on good authority that you have a pair of my spankies, that ain't gonna cut it. Comprendez?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"So break open this door because we haven't got 'lock-picker Fabray' to do it delicately for us."

"How about I use the key?" His eyes sparkled. "I have a master for the whole school."

She looked at him with amazement. "Sometimes I can't help but be turned on by how bad you are," Santana said seductively.

Pushing the door open, they looked on in wonder at the room which contained every confiscated item from the last twenty years and counting. "Whoa," breathed Puck. "I feel like Nicholas Cage in National Treasure. Except I wouldn't be a douche and give it all away." His eyes scanned over the bottles of liqor, electronic games, footballs, fireworks and other contraband. "It's like my hall of fame. Look, there's that propane tank I tried to turn into a rocket in freshman year."

"Found it!" Santana began tugging out all her Cheerio accessories.

"Cool. What else should we take?" He ran his hand over his mohawk. "I don't know why but I'm seriously drawn to that tomahawk." Suddenly he couldn't help but picture Santana as Pocahontas.

Santana sank down and sat on the floor. "Y'know what? I can put on this uniform but it's still not gonna be the same."

"Give it up. Throw it back in their faces." He sat down beside her and put his arm around her back. "You don't need them to get respect in this school."

"Yeah, right," she said, unconvinced.

"People aren't scared of Santana the cheerleader; they're scared of Santana the badass."

"Really?" she looked hopeful.

"Yeah, you spread terror wherever you go; I've seen kids blow chunks with fear, even when you're _not_ in uniform."

She playfully punched him in the stomach. "Thanks. You've been a really nice guy."

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "It's my calling lately. First Rachel, now you. Somehow I'm actually sticking to my word."

"Huh?"

"I'm on a mission to help my exes. First, I told Rachel not to date Quinn right away, then I helped you play a joke on Brittany."

"You're the reason Berry's all pissed and frustrated? I thought she was pmsing. I got a slushie facial because of you!"

"Damn. I guess no good deed goes unpunished," he said mopily.

Santana recognized the lyric. "Oh my god. You have been spending way too much time around Rachel Berry. Get out. Get out! And don't talk to me until you've been uncastrated." She pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket as she dragged Puck out of the storeroom. "Quinn?" she listened for a moment. "Shut up and listen. Where did you even learn those kinds of words anyway?" She switched ears and held her hand out to Puck. He handed over the master key reluctantly. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, Q, but don't listen to what anyone else says. It's gross but Rachel is hot for you."

* * *

"I got your message." Rachel padded across the grass and held up her sparkly cell phone with the text that read: 'Meet me at the 50yard line. Please. Quinn."

"I'm amazed you came." Quinn bit her lip, her breathing a little labored, like she'd run to the football field, even though it had taken Rachel a good fifteen minutes to get there after the text had been sent.

"So, what's my fate? Stand at the end zone while you have someone kick footballs at my nose?"

Quinn shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, but I deserved that slushie. I didn't ask you here to avenge what you did. But please tell me you know that I didn't spray paint your locker, right? Right?" she asked insistently.

"I believe you. I realized I was wrong. I should have given you a proper hearing yesterday. I'm sorry for that." Rachel frowned when she saw what Quinn was wearing. "Haven't you got somewhere else to be?"

"Nowhere as important as here."

"But you're in your uniform and I'm guessing there's a reason for that. I know how seriously you take your cheerleading. And unless you've taken to wearing it on weekends just for -"

"There was something," Quinn admitted, "but I have better things to be doing. Like talking to you. If you'll let me."

* * *

Will looked flustered, holding his chest after running from his car. "What's going on?" he panted as he approached the gathered group of cheerleaders. "Someone called me here because they said my parents had been in an accident and I had five minutes to say my goodbyes."

Sue emerged through the crowd. "Ah, William. I see you received my call to arms. Fantastic!"

"Sue? You had me scared witless!" He dragged his palms down in face, in part with relief.

"Will?" The voice came from behind.

He looked around and caught sight of Terri. His eyes widened. "What? Is this some kind of weird set up?"

"No." Sue stepped forward. "We needed an impartial judge, that's you by the way, and I figured that Terri here would be the one person you hated more than you hate me, so thank you for stepping into the breach." She hit him on the back, hard. "Okay everyone. First challenge: three tier tree extensions. Mount and hold steady." The Cheerios assembled; appropriate smiles implanted in their straining faces.

Terri instructed her team to do the same. "Will? You have to watch them carefully. The first team with a shaking limb loses this round. You have to pay attention."

Will's hand cut through the air. "No way. I won't be party to this."

"Please, Will." Terri spoke softly. "For old time's sake? You want me to be happy, don't you? I know you do, deep down. And this is my new venture. I'm making positive moves to empower myself, so that I won't even feel the need to hurt someone..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "...like I hurt you."

He found himself weakened by her voice and tried not to be swayed by her slender figure in the light of the setting sun. "Okay, just this once."

Santana strolled up to the group and acknowledged everyone in turn. "Cheerios, Lima AllSkanks, Coach, Mr Schuester, Mrs Schuester."

"Delmonico, dear," Terri corrected with a raised finger.

"Whatever."

"Where, young lady, is your _suit_?" Sue raged. "I expected to see a pair of large, glassy eyes resting atop that pretty head." Sue looked up and around, counting up the Cheerios, her lips tightly pursed. "Hold on." She knitted her brows together. "Somebody, please stop this carousel of insanity," she screamed. "I wish to dismount my metaphorical plastic stallion. Where in hades are Pierce and Fabray?"

Santana smirked but covered it. "That's what I came here to tell you, Coach. They've been locked in a store room in the school. You'll have to come right away to get them out."

"You!" Sue's head almost spun exorcist like before the rest of her body followed. "You did this!" she accused Terri.

"Oh, come off it, Sue. My team could wipe the _floor_ with yours," she uttered with a sweet malice. "I don't need to sabotage you. I'm sure this is all just some silly mistake."

"Lopez, lead the way," Sue commanded. "Cheerios, stay in that formation until we get back." She received panic stricken stares.

"Uh, yes, AllStars, you too," Terri added with a winning smile.

* * *

"Did you read my letter?" Quinn asked plainly as she sat down next to Rachel on the top tier of the bleachers.

"I, uh - " Rachel wasn't sure if they were talking cross purposes, or if Quinn had a webcam set up in her bedroom the previous night.

"When you came to my house, did you read the letter I had written to you?

"Did your mom tell -"

"My mom? No, she was pretty much out cold when I got home." Quinn inhaled deeply, then exhaled softly, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Then how did you know?"

"When I woke up this morning my window was a little misty, and someone had drawn a star on the glass."

Rachel clenched her teeth and smiled widely. "Sorry," she said quickly.

"It was kinda odd knowing you'd been in my room. I felt strangely... jealous."

"Jealous of a room? That seems ridiculous."

"Will you answer my question about the letter?" Quinn asked.

"I'd rather not." Rachel licked her lips, then sealed them tight to stop herself from blurting anything she might regret.

"There you go again with the rather nots."

"If I talk to you about the letter, then I'm guessing that I won't get to hear those things for real, coming out of your mouth, expressed through those eyes."

Quinn paused for effect before saying: "You might."

Rachel's brain was on overdrive. "No one has ever written me a letter before. Well, unless you count the ones from my Yugoslavian pen-pal Maria Henssonow, but I don't - count them, I mean - especially since her letters consist almost entirely of lyrics of obscure seventies songs written out - and poorly I might add - on paper that smells like funny cigarettes, onions and peppermint. But yours felt really, honestly and truly _special_. The very fact that you spent time composing it, putting pen to paper, thoughts into words. And it smelled nice, like your room, like you. I can't even verbalize how incredible that felt to read. I was shuddering so much inside when I read it that I thought I was going to throw up and ruin your beautiful bedroom furnishings. Oh,_paparazzi_," she exclaimed. "I've fugged it up by talking too much, haven't I? You've glazed over."

"A letter was the only way I could get my words to you. I didn't think you'd listen. I'm glad you didn't throw up, but the furnishings belong to Frannie; after she left home I took her room because it was the best and I always want the best. And no, you haven't _fugged _it up. Nor have I glazed over; I was just thinking how pretty you look. Also, lose the pen-pal."

"I... " Rachel was still reeling. Instinctively, she put her hand to her head.

"Did you curl your hair and put on make-up just to come and see me?"

"You caught me practicing my awards acceptance speeches," she replied, running her fingers through her curls.

"Oh." Quinn was disappointed. Her head dropped; she had hoped that Rachel had made the effort to impress her, and felt silly for even mentioning it.

"My goodness, I've just realized how cold you must be. The cardio workout you get from cheerleading would have kept you warm, but you're just sitting here in that insufficient set of clothing. You must be perishing." Rachel ran her thumb over the back of Quinn's hand; it felt icy. "Here, take my coat. I have plenty of layers on. I'm only this wrapped up in case you tied me to a post for the night. I couldn't bear the idea of you catching hypothermia."

"You're just like your father." Quinn smiled as she graciously allowed Rachel to swing the coat around her shoulders. She swallowed as Rachel's knuckles brushed her neck gently as she aligned the collar; her heart seemed to be trying to make a leap for her throat.

"I'm glad you met him." There was a twinkle in Rachel's eye as she saw Quinn about to speak in objection. "Daddy couldn't help himself I'm afraid. He's not very good at keeping secrets, but he _certainly_ didn't say it out loud. My pappy and I spent most of Friday evening trying to work out what he was attempting to communicate to us via the means of mime and charades. And I actually think he would make a talented cheerleader."

Quinn laughed. "How on earth did we manage to be at each other's houses at the same time?"

"Too alike; that's why we clash." Rachel still had one hand clutched onto the coat, keeping their bodies comfortably close.

"Have we ever, y'know, hugged?' Quinn asked shyly.

"Probably, I mean, surely... we must have... in moments of high joy and low discernment."

"May I hug you now?"

"I don't know. Puck said -" Rachel stopped abruptly, thinking about 'Rule One'. She hadn't intended to tell Quinn that she'd stood back on the advice of someone else.

"Said what?" Quinn prompted.

"That I shouldn't allow physical interaction until I have, as he put it, 'got you whipped'." The words fell out of her mouth rapidly.

"And have you?"

"What?"

"Got me sufficiently 'whipped' yet?" Quinn frowned and narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know what a whipped Quinn would act like. Sorry, that sounded wrong. You've got me tongue-tied; before long I'll be speaking goggledybook. I mean goddedynook. Gobbledygook!" Rachel closed her eyes and stopped for a moment. "Kurt said that I shouldn't give in to any of your advances at all.

"Oh my goodness, you have been 'Cyranoed', haven't you?" Quinn shook her head, partially with dismay, partially in disbelief.

"Well, not really, because, in the original, Edmund Rostand's character of Cyrano de Bergerac was the one providing the advice to a less worthy candidate. In my case, I was the one receiving comment. If, however, I had prompted, say, Sam with words to lure your good favor then that -"

"I know the story. Our situation is just flipped around a little."

"In that case, you do realize that you've just labelled yourself as the beautiful Roxane and me as the large-nosed, male protagonist?"

"Oh." Quinn winced and looked truly sorry. "I didn't mean to make the association, Rachel." Rachel's stomach dropped at the sound of Quinn saying her first name. "You don't... I don't think... please don't think I ever said those awful things because I think they're true. They're not, honest."

"I think I see what a whipped Quinn suddenly looks like." A quirky smile appeared on Rachel's lips.

"I am. I don't know how to do this," she admitted, feeling lost. "I don't know how to be the one who could get hurt. Normally, I play it safe and I play it strong. I choose people - guys- who are completely wrapped up in me, smitten, and who need me more than I need them."

"Rule Two," Rachel said under her breath.

"You have rules for dating?"

"Puck's rules, not mine. If I happened to create rules for dating, they would not only be quantifiable but also eloquently composed."

"Are there more? Of Puck's rules."

"I'll tell you later... perhaps." Rachel shook her head. "Maybe."

"Either way, the advice you received seems to have been warning you off me." Quinn frowned. "Everyone _I_ talked to thought we should get together."

"Now who's been 'Cyranoed'?" Rachel smirked.

"You got me." She tilted her head. "I didn't know what to do either, so I asked around. I've never been in this position before. I've never been the one doing the chasing. And I've definitely never fallen for a woman before."

Rachel blinked and tried to remain composed. "If we date, you're not gonna get to be prom queen."

"I don't care," Quinn dismissed readily.

"Of _course_ you care."

"I _don't_." Quinn reached over and pressed at Rachel's side; she heard her breath catch. "How about you, when you're famous? They'll drag this up, taunt you with it."

"I don't care." Rachel smiled. "Perhaps we could try for that hug now," she said quietly, attempting to swallow her nerves. They nudged closer, the proximity becoming more intense as the gap closed.

"This is silly. I mean, you've kissed me. Why is a hug so... so... it feels so impossible."

"Because, first and foremost, it's about friendship, I guess." Quinn frowned, her hands pressing down hard on her knees.

"I want to be your friend."

"Please just hug me already."

Rachel did as bid, not because she was asked, but because she wanted it. She could smell the heady scent of Quinn's shampoo, of her beautiful skin. A deep inhale caused her chest to rise and close the gap even more. They hugged tighter. "This feels like more than friendship," she uttered almost directly into Quinn's ear, causing Quinn to shiver slightly, as Rachel's fingers dug pleasantly into her back.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Quinn asked, her voice reduced to a husky whisper.

"All the time. I'm just waiting for the right moment." Rachel slid the tip of her nose along Quinn's jawline.

"Is that before or after I die from waiting for your lips to hit mine?"

* * *

As soon as the door closed and the lock clicked, Will, Sue and Terri realized they'd been tricked.

"You'll pay for this big time, Lopez," Sue screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Great, my cell doesn't work in here. What is it? Lead lined?"

Sue curled her lip with annoyance. "Yes, actually. It just happens to double as my Third World War bunker. So when you kids are doing the old 'duck and cover', I will be preserved for future generations. Got a problem with that?"

"Will, don't sit there, it's dirty," Terri chastized.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, Terri." He replied, ignoring her advice.

"Fine. Just don't look to me when you find you have marks all over the ass of those chinos."

"You know what, William?" Sue grinned. "I'm happy right now, because I am reminded that you were once married to a woman who is just like me, and she made your life a living hell."

"Thanks for that, Sue." He shook his head with dismay. Sue stuck her tongue out at him rebelliously before turning away to build a throne-like chair out of boxes. "Terri and I had some great times. It just ended badly. Don't judge us on how we are now."

"That was a sweet thing to say, Will." Terri held her hand to her chest as she sank down to sit on a basketball. "Did you mean what you said?"

He coyly glanced over at her and sighed. "Y'know, I really, really wish I could forgive you."

"Try stuffing it down into an itty bitty ball in the pit of your stomach. I find it helps." Terri nodded encouragingly.

Will shook his head forlornly, a faint smile on his lips. "If only it were that easy. God, I wish it were that easy. When I look at you..."

"Yes?" Terri prompted keenly.

"When I look at you, the love is -"

"Die! Die! Die!" Sue screamed.

"What?" Will and Terri looked up shocked and puzzled.

Sue peered out from the Gameboy she had been pressing at frantically, and unsuctioned a foamy plug from each ear canal. "I'm sorry. Were you saying something? I thought you were just lip flapping for your own amusement."

Will rolled his eyes and pointed at the handheld console. "What are you playing, Sue?"

"I, William, am apparently playing Castlevania: The Adventure, and I'm very good at it because this little guy on the left here has died around forty times so far. Chairman Mao eat your heart out."

"Oh my God." His eyes lit up, and a smile that could compete with The Joker spread across his gleeful face. "I remember that. In fact -" he looked over her shoulder "- that's _my_ Gameboy. That's incredible. I forgot I'd had it taken from me." He took it from Sue's hands and tapped at the screen with his finger. Out of his view, Terri rolled her eyes. "I was absolutely obsessed with video games back then. I got into trouble with all the teachers because it was pretty much always glued to my face. They said it would give me square eyes."

"No, just an over-inflated sense of self-importance," Sue muttered.

Terri covered a laugh.

"This... is the reason I joined our glee club." He looked to one side, clearly reminiscing. Will thought back to that day.

Sue made a motion of sticking her fingers down her throat and dry retching.

"Go on, Will." Terri pushed at his elbow. "I'm sure Sue would love to hear the story."

"Yes, _please_ make me suffer a slow, agonizing death worse than being eaten by a score of ravenous terrapins."

* * *

[Flash to Will Schuester's freshman year]

Will dragged his fingers through his well-gelled hair. "Hey, Spike, you coming over to mine tonight? The Fresh Prince of Bel Air is on and my mom's making meatloaf." He received a positive gesture. "Cool, man," he breathed, only to come to a sudden stop when he saw the familiar, svelte figure of the senior April Rhodes tottering in his direction. Swallowing, he ducked his head down shyly and pulled out his Gameboy. She floated past and stopped a little way down, pulling out a tiny bottle of liquid and indiscreetly downing a gulp. He was about to pluck up his courage and go up to her when the ominous sound of Miss DuPont's voice rang in his ears.

"Billy Schuester," she intoned.

"Zoiks," he said under his breath as he raised his chin to meet the stare of his form teacher's horn-rimmed spectacles.

"I thought I told you not to bring that device into school, young man," she scolded. "It will _rot_ your brain."

Will looked around nervously, his Adam's apple bouncing. He was about to apologize when he noticed April smiling at him. She was mouthing words of encouragement and punching the air playfully.

_'What would Luke Perry do?'_ he asked himself. He chest rose and he glared directly back at her. "Don't have a cow, teach." Will nodded and crossed his arms self-assuredly. It wasn't quite what he was intending to say but it seemed to have the desired effect. The other pupils laughed gaily, but the red hot stare he received from his teacher said it all. He gulped and handed over his Gameboy.

* * *

Will twiddled his thumbs and let out a long exhale. He'd never been in this much trouble before; his heart was racing with fear. Matters weren't helped by the fact that he was sitting beside a pretty, blonde cheerleader who was also waiting to be seen by the Principal. "I hear the new guy isn't too bad," he said softly.

"I hear he has a hundred ghetto orphans shoveling body parts of dead sub-standard pupils into the furnace to heat the building," she replied.

"No. Way." He looked at her wide eyed and she laughed at his gullible, but clearly sweet nature. He smiled shyly. "So why are you here?"

"I broke a mirror in the bathroom." She checked her cuticles for imperfections.

"How?"

"I threw a member of the Glee Club at it and now she's sort of unconscious in hospital," she uttered simply. "I'm Terri Delmonico." She held out her hand for him to shake, which he did with much trepidation.

"Billy Schuester."

"Billy? You're not going to get far with a name like that. You should be Will." She looked him up and down. "Also, cut your hair and lose the jacket." Reaching up, she pulled at the metal-banded headphones hanging around his neck. "What've you been listening to?" Slowly, she ran her finger down the wire until she reached the Sony Walkman looped onto his belt. She pressed the eject button almost sensually and Will felt his breath catch in his throat when the tape deck popped open. She examined the tape and Will turned bright red. "Michael Jackson," she pouted. "Can you dance like him?"

For Will, that moment seemed like a turning point. Someone, a girl, of all people, was asking to see what he'd done only in his bedroom all alone. Courage rose in his chest. "I can do more than that." He jumped to his feet, grabbed a trilby from the hat stand and moonwalked across the polished floor. Spinning on his heel, he stopped and began to sing. "I'm gonna make a change, for once in my life. It's gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference. Gonna make it right. As I turned up the collar on my favorite winter coat, this wind is blowin' my mind -"

"Schuester!" yelled the Principal through the suddenly open door. "Get in here, and take my damned hat off."

Will spun to a stop and nodded to the man.

Terri grabbed his sleeve, momentarily contemplated his behind, then looked up at him with eager blue eyes. "See you around, Will."

"What?" he asked, his lip quirking with confusion.

She just smiled confidently. Will nodded and with a full heart, bounded into the office.

Principal Griffin sat back in his squeaking office chair, placing his interlinked hands on his balding head. "I was going to send you for detention, but -" he coughed "- after news that one of the Glee Club members has now fallen into a coma, I have a proposition for you..."

* * *

[Flash to present]

"My heart is so warmed by your story, it's almost begun to beat again." Sue got up and began rooting around on shelves.

Terri tapped at her cheek. "Will, you embellish. It could barely be labeled a coma; it lasted only a few weeks. That's more like a pleasantly refreshing nap."

"She had to be home schooled after, Terri."

"So?" she asked.

"Because of her new fear of mirrors, bathrooms and cheerleaders?"

"Well, let's forget about that. It's nice to see you, Will, even if it is in captive circumstances."

"Yeah, it is." He couldn't help but smile, memories of the girl he once knew foremost in his mind.

"Do you think there might be a crowbar in here?" Sue interrupted their quiet, reverential moment.

"You want to break open the door?" Will raised an eyebrow in concern.

"No, I want to knock you unconscious before you light a campfire and begin singing 'Kum Ba Ya'."

He smirked. "I'll be quiet, Sue. I've got my baby back." Terri looked hopeful but then realized he was looking lovingly at his Gameboy.

Sue snatched it from his hands and flung it at the tiny window. It smashed and flew gracefully through the opening. "Fetch, Rover."

"Thank you," Terri muttered.

"Sue! Why do you always make peoples' lives miserable?"

"Not all people, William, just ones I hate, and anyone who doesn't live up to my standards of excellence." Sue rubbed her shoulders, chilled by the new breeze. "Well? Aren't you going to offer me your jacket like the gentleman that you are?"

"I thought you were cold blooded anyway, Sue." Will began to scrutinize the contents of one of the boxes. "I need to get out of here. Didn't we take a flare gun off Puck once? We need to alert someone to our presence."

"No flare gun, but if you can find a confiscated lighter, we could use these?" She proudly held up a brightly coloured box.

"A lighter?" Will tapped at his chin and smiled. "Let's see... we seem to have... about a hundred. Let's do it."

* * *

Quinn closed her eyes and her stomach dropped and rolled for the eighth time. "However much I like the feeling, this really _is_ gonna kill me, Rachel."

"I know, but I don't like to take to the stage until the audience is almost clamoring for my presence."

In her head, Quinn objected to the comparison, but didn't verbalize for fear of Rachel simply leaving. "Is this my payback?" She reached over and stroked hair out of Rachel's eyeline, wanting to look her directly in her eyes.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Taking Quinn by surprise, Rachel rushed into the kiss. It wasn't like the first, nor the second or the third. But this fourth kiss was the one they had been waiting for. The one that actually meant something. "I. Like. You. Too." Rachel spoke into Quinn's mouth, each word punctuated with a peck to the lips. She felt like she could feel the world turning underneath them. Time slowed. Then the fireworks started. Literal fireworks, which shot from a small, broken window in the school.

The dazzling display was accompanied by the screams of rivaling cheerleaders in the parking lot finally giving up waiting for their coaches, and descending into a loud, violent brawl.

"Did you...?" Rachel indicated the myriad of colors exploding in the sky.

"No. I assume that you didn't either. So who...?"

"We're just lucky, I guess." Rachel looked back at Quinn and couldn't help herself. "You're beautiful."

Tears appeared in Quinn's eyes. So much bottled inside, so much front that she had upheld for so long. Rachel pulled her close and kissed her hair. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe.

* * *

[Monday]

Finn and Brittany shielded their eyes from the light as they stepped out and onto the road by McKinley High. Finn double banged on the closed door to indicate the all clear.

"Thank you, Mr Headbanger Babycruncher." Brittany jumped and waved at the enormous bearded driver as the Playboy delivery vehicle pulled away. "Wasn't he the nicest?"

"Yeah, totally, and he gave me all this free porn; I can give it to Puck for his birthday."

"I had the best time," Brittany said coyly, hands clasped behind her back.

"Me too," he grinned. "I can't wait to tell everyone that we're in Zombieland II. Everyone is going to die with jealousy when they see that guy pull your ear off and eat your neck."

"I know. It was pretty awesome when they had your eyes fall out. And I'm glad you've got them back now." She reached up and stroked her fingertips through his hair.

"The police chase was cool too," Finn grinned.

"The one in the movie?"

"No, the one just before you made a leap for the perp they were chasing." Finn held her by the cheek. "How you restrained him by wrapping your legs around his throat... I'll never know."

"I can show you later if you like."

"Uh, yeah, that would rock." He coughed and turned a little red.

"It was nice of the mayor to put us up in that hotel too -" she looked down at herself and surveyed her new dress "- and to buy us these new clothes for that weird ceremony they did."

"Yeah, though what do we do with this key they gave us?" He held up a large gold key to the city.

Brittany ran her ringer across the metal. "Maybe they lock some really big gates at night."

"Awesome."

* * *

Santana was back in Sue's office, but this time she was there for a disciplinary.

"I'm going to have you expelled from this school like a hunk of phlegm from the back of my throat," Sue sneered.

"No, you're not," Santana said confidently, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder.

"Don't speak to your superior like that."

Santana crossed her arms. "Let me explain. My dad is a doctor, my uncle is a lawyer, my grandpapa is a mobster and my mother is royal bitch."

"My fourth cousin was involved in the death of Diana Princess of Wales, but you don't see me shooting my mouth off about it, d'you?" Sue stood up and put her hands on her desk.

"I'll say it more clearly. My mother is a bitch who just happens to be on the school board. Keep my record clean or she will have you fired."

Sue sat back down quietly. "I like your attitude, Lopez. Perhaps I've been rash. What shall we say, once your wrist is healed... promotion to the top of the pyramid and your own personal tanning booth?"

"Tempting, but no."

"Okay, fine, you get your way." Sue bit her lip. "You can have Becky to peel grapes for you every Tuesday and Thursday."

"She may give the best back rubs this side of Lima, but it's still a no. And I'll say this clearly. I say _no_ because I _quit_, Coach."

"What?" Sue uttered incredulously.

"You heard," she uttered darkly, looking down her nose at her former Coach.

"You'll become nothing," Sue growled.

"At least I'll be me." Turning on her sharp heel, she strode out, zipped up her tight jacket and slammed Sue's door behind her. Puck was right, her reputation preceded her and no one would mess with that. She winked at a young math geek; his books immediately lowered from his face to his belt as he blushed. The plaster cast actually seemed to help, especially since she'd paid Jacob Ben Israel to spread the rumor that she had damaged her wrist by punching Karofsky in the back of the head. She didn't need to be a Cheerio to feel empowered.

"Santana!"

"Britt?" She whipped round so fast that Brittany collided headlong with her and they both fell to the floor.

"How are you?"

"I... I'm doing okay," Santana replied as they picked each other up.

"Finn and I had the best weekend. I wish you could have been there."

_'Trust Brittany S. Pierce and Finn Hudson to make a party out of a crisis. To them a gas explosion would be a pretty bonfire to make and eat S'mores by,'_ thought Santana. "I guess you'll be wanting this back." She reached behind her head and began to unclasp the heart locket Brittany had given to her for her sweet sixteen. "Can you help me out? I can't undo it."

Brittany frowned. "Did I do something bad?"

"No, sweetie, I'm just moving on. You've got Finn now and he's the commitment, serious, _dull_ type."

"But I love you." Brittany cocked her head to one side, utterly confused.

"You're gonna love him more some day." Santana sighed.

"You're both important."

"Just... don't keep bailing on me, okay?" She frowned and licked her lips.

Brittany nodded keenly. "Can I sign your arm?"

Santana let her, even though she'd forbidden everyone else from doing so. She'd even turned down Puck who wanted to draw a hand with raised middle finger. It would, after all, save time when people offended her. She still might let him. That, or she'd get Mike to draw one of his cool animé women. Tattooed rock-chick style seemed a good direction to try post-Cheerio. She looked down to see what Brittany had written on the cast. 'You'll always be my first. Love you forever, B.' Santana decided to leave the rest blank after all.

* * *

"And I thought _I_ was controlling," Rachel near shouted, stamping her foot down hard on the tiles of the bathroom floor, mildly frightening the other occupants.

"Hah. When you could barely control your butt into those jeans?" Quinn retaliated, her hip leaning against the bank of washbasins.

The other girls waltzed out the door. Rachel checked the stalls to ensure she and Quinn were quite alone, then checked her watch. "Oh, gotta go, ttylb." She stood on tip toe to nudge a kiss onto Quinn's soft lips.

Quinn smiled serenely. "Wait," she blinked. "Come back to Glee club. Please. It's not the same without you."

"Okay, I will, and thank you."

"For what?" Quinn frowned and tipped her head to one side.

"You're the one person I needed to hear that from." Rachel tugged at Quinn's waistband playfully.

"Is it going to be weird?"

"No doubt, but perhaps no more than it was before. You and I have always had our _tensions._" Rachel quirked an eyebrow coquettishly and made Quinn blush.

"When should we tell people?" Quinn asked. "About us."

"If it's okay, I'd like to keep it to ourselves for now, to reduce the interference caused by other people's opinion. Keep our rel... keep us out of the limelight." Rachel was busy building parallels between school life and her future in showbiz. "I'd like to get to know the real Quinn Fabray first."

"She's messed up. You won't want her." Quinn folded her arms defensively.

"But I do want her. I've wanted her even when she didn't want me." Rachel's eyes expressed everything she couldn't say. Pulling at Quinn's arms she said: "Rule three."

"Rule three?"

"Don't let the bitches get you down. You wanted to know."

"Oh."

"Quinn, I don't think you're a bitch." Leaning over, Rachel kissed her deeply on the mouth. "So, should I prepare anything for Glee club?"

"Please do! The theme is second chances, and we've all entirely failed to come up with something we can all agree on. If we don't, Mr Schuester will have us sing some old billboard hit we've never heard of."

Rachel smiled broadly. "I have just the song."

* * *

Everyone in the auditorium was smiling. After her recent power kick, Santana didn't even mind the fact that Finn and Brittany were being gooey-eyed with each other. Quinn and Rachel reserved their affections for later, resorting only to sly glances. Above all, everyone was glad to see Rachel, and she really hadn't been expecting it.

The music kicked in and Finn tapped his foot. "A strangled smile fell from your face," he sang with a frown. "Oh, it kills me that I hurt you this way. The worst part is that I didn't even know." The other boys joined in. "Now there's a million reasons for you to go." In the background, Kurt spun Rachel in circles. She twirled off in Quinn's direction but was pushed into Santana's arms. "But, if you can find a reason to stay." Much to everyone's amusement, Santana tangoed Rachel towards the front of the stage. Mercedes grabbed her hand and pulled her round into a hug, before Sam picked her up by the waist and spun on the spot. She giggled dizzily. "I'll do whatever it takes... to turn this around. I know what's at stake. I know that I've let you down." Everyone weaved into position and walked forward, all singing in union around the spinning pair. "And if you give me a chance, believe that I can change. I'll keep us together. Whatever it takes." Sam set Rachel down and she found herself pulled forward by both hands: Brittany on one side, Puck on the other. "Ah-bub-bah-buh-ba," everyone harmonized.

"She said..." The boys raised their hands as the girls took over, all gathered together on one side of the stage, facing the absent audience, hands on their hearts. "If we're gonna make this work... you gotta let me inside, even though it hurts. Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see."

"She said..." Quinn grabbed at Rachel's waist and turned her sharply so that they faced each other. "_Like_ it or not, it's the way it's gotta be." She approached her with a wicked grin, forcing Rachel to blindly step backwards towards the edge of the stage. Trust paramount. "You gotta love yourself, if you can ever love me."

The girls lined up at the front, holding hands. The boys stood behind. "I'll do whatever it takes to turn this around. I know what's at stake. I know that I've let you down. And if you give me a chance and give me a break, I'll keep us together. I know you deserve much better." Each girl got pulled back and replaced by a boy so that they could rock out a little. "Remember the time I told you the way that I felt and that I'd be lost without you and never find myself. Let's hold onto each other above everything else. Start over, start over."

From his seat, Will looked on with pride. If there was any lesson he could ever teach them, it was to always overcome your differences. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out his well-thumbed wedding photograph. He placed it against his lips before tucking it away.

Once again stepping behind the girls, the boys wrapped their arms around their waists. Tina sat on Artie's lap. Everyone swayed in time with the music. "I'll do whatever it takes to turn this around. I know what's at stake. I know that I've let you down. And if you give me a chance, believe that I can change." Rachel looked out of the corner of her eye at Quinn and smiled. "I'll keep us together. Whatever it takes. Ah-bub-bah-buh-ba-bah-buh-ba."

* * *

[Next time on Glee]

[Sectionals is just around the corner and emotions are running high]

Will grinned. "We need new blood to raise our game. Welcome to..." He pulled back the sheet to reveal a sign: "'McKinley Idol'."

"Mr Schue?" Rachel raised a hand.

"No, Rachel, you can't audition."

[Tina's having issues at home and is keeping things close to her chest]

"But, cara mia," Artie purred in his Gomez Addams voice.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Tina ran away in tears.

[Quinn has a few secrets of her own to share.]

"My sister's got a job at Hooters." Quinn glowered.

Puck's ears pricked up: "Which state did you say her college was in?"

[While things get surreal...]

Brittany bounced excitedly. "Triple yay."

"Double yuck," Santana sneered.

[Prepare yourself as we say a warm hello to Sue... _Cowell_?]

Sue winced at the girl's last note. "Is this a knife I see before me, or are you just _painfully_ sharp?"


	3. False Idols

**Title:** False Idols  
**Author:** Claire G  
**Pairing:** Rachel/Quinn... mentions of Tina/Artie, Will/Terri, Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Brittany  
**Word count:** 16,392  
**Rating:** K  
**Disclaimer:** Glee and its characters are the property of Fox. No infringement intended.  
**Plot:** In an attempt to raise money, interest and morale for Sectionals, Will suggests McKinley hosts its own Idol competition. Rachel insists that she and Quinn keep their relationship on the down-low and suggests acquiring beards. Tina's in trouble.  
**Note: **This is the 3rd episode my my own little series and would be s02e09. The timeline between real!Glee and cloogle!Glee splits after Rocky Horror.  
**Note:** I just want to say thank you to those who read my first two episodes: **Uninvited** and **Totally Cyranoed**. I know this style isn't the norm and that narration-light isn't everyone's thing, but I wanted to keep these stories condensed. After all, it's not going to feel like an episode if takes a days to read. In my series: Faberry is the new Finchel and features a lot; Quinn wasn't Lucy and is still a Cheerio; Santana is not out and is not a Cheerio; Sue hates Glee; Kurt never left McKinley; Finn and Brittany are together, as are Tina and Artie.  
**Note:** To anyone reading the Achele flipside of this series (**Happy Agony**): The filming of this ep would have been sometime during the latter half of the chapter 'Glutton For Punishment'.

Bad timing I know! What with S3 Glee starting tomorrow!

* * *

[So here's what you missed last week.]  
[Santana broke her wrist and became the football mascot]  
"Get used to it, punk," Becky shouted without remorse.  
[... that is, until she quit the Cheerios]  
"You'll become nothing," Sue growled.  
"At least I'll be me," Santana threw back with a smirk.  
[After Quinn kissed Rachel in the dark at Mercedes' party, the girls got together, sorta, and then they got some intriguing advice]  
Mercedes pouted. "You can put your legs in the sleeves of a shirt, but that don't make it pants."  
[But after a few arguments and misunderstandings, it worked out just fine]  
"You and I have always had our tensions." Rachel quirked an eyebrow coquettishly and made Quinn blush.  
[Finn and Brittany got tricked into a fake date that ended up being a great date] [Terri and Will almost reached common ground] [And Sue was, well, just Sue]  
"Die! Die! Die!" Sue screamed.  
[And that's what you missed on Glee.]

* * *

"Hey there, citizens of Western Ohio." Sue raised a fist at the camera, her lips tightly pursed as she gave the lens her customary evil glare. "I want to bring your attention to a problem _extra_ordinarily close to my heart. I speak of none other than that traditional mainstay of the American Public: _ritual_, public humiliation... or, more precisely, televised singing competitions. We as a nation like nothing more than a good celebrity roast, a cream pie to the face, a sunny afternoon spent shouting helpful posture-related tidbits at dispossessed senior citizens. That's all well and good. Suppress complacency, say I! But... what do we say of the hideous minefield that is reality television?" she continued. "Is it really right to allow these _poor_ souls onto our screens so that we might laugh in their faces? The answer? _Absolutely_, yes! That's all good fun. However, what I disapprove of, are the contestants who _aren't_ lambasted with comments that would grind down their self-belief and potentially raise their own level of personal hygiene. Those sorry few are informed that they have _talent_." Sue sucked her lips into her mouth and shook her head with dismay. "Well, excuse me while I vomit ticker tape into the air."

"Let it be heard, here and now, from your much beloved family friend, political adviser and personal god, Sue Sylvester, that Fox is the _devil_, and said prince of televisual networking darkness has cursed our fair land with its _putrid_ spawn. Once on high, the now rejected progeny scatter far and wide across the streets of America: sleeping in dumpsters and succumbing to the exotic world of prostitution. You have only to look at Adam Lambert to know he's not a well man; those dark circles around the eyes, and blackened fingernails caused by clawing at so many music producers' closed doors. _Shocking._" She held her hand to her heart. "It just pulls me apart inside every time I'm forced to throw that Clay Aiken a buck for scraping roadkill carcass off the grill of my car." Sue sat back and pushed away an imaginary tear. "And now, good people, I'm afraid to tell you that such sadness has spread to our schools. I'm _horrified_ to be the one to inform you that on Saturday at 10am our _very_ own McKinley High School will be holding auditions for a singing contest that will take place that very evening. Don't look their way, don't step forward, and do not go to .com to purchase tickets for the evening show at the _hideously_ reasonable price of ten bucks a seat. Above all, I _beg_ of you from the bottom of my crippled and barely-beating heart, do _not_stand in line to be ridiculed and mocked! Do not sell your soul to stardom, people! Singing careers are for losers. So... until next time, my precious kinfolk, that's how Sue -" Sue formed a C with her hand and winked "- sees it." The camera panned away and she strode purposefully off set.

Will chased after her. "Thank you _so _much. Your show is gonna get us great, albeit controversial, publicity. I owe you."

"Oh come on, William. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because my Cheerios need a 4D television for their sauna and -" Sue turned back and loomed over Will, hoarsely grunting the rest "- because it's my _destiny_."

"What do you mean?" he chuckled nervously. "Destiny, Sue?"

She smiled sinisterly. "Well you're going to need me to take the place of the celebrity hard-nosed judge, isn't that right, my little slickly-oiled fawn?"

"Well... I... uh..."

"Isn't that right?" Her eye twitched as she gave Will her best hypno-glare. "Because, remember, what Sue giveth, Sue can taketh away." She snapped her fingers by his ear, then pointed back to the TV studio with an ingratiating smile.

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, Sue. Sure. Absolutely. We'd love to have you on the team," he seethed. _'What have I unleashed?' _thought Will.

* * *

#%#%#%#%#% !GLEE! #%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"Cool off?" Artie exclaimed, his tires screeching as he rolled after Tina down the empty hallway. "Tina, I'm pretty sure we haven't yet reached a temperature acceptable for public swimming pools. Last night I accidentally touched your knee with my elbow and you said: 'I'm not ready for that kind of commitment'."

Tina twirled around and sighed. "It's... not as simple as that, Artie." She crossed her arms defensively, her stern expression falling into one of sadness and remorse when she saw his slumped frame.

"Then tell me!" he begged. "Tell me what I can do. Anything. I'll comb my hair differently. I'll put flowers in your locker every day. I'll wear that... gentlemen's eyeliner to school. I'd do anything for you. I can't lose you again."

"There isn't anything, I..." She bobbed her knees and placed her hand under his chin. "There's nothing you can do to make this any better; you're better off away from me. There's nothing -"

"But, cara mia," Artie purred in his Gomez Addams voice.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Tina frowned and then ran away in tears.

Artie sullenly placed his hands on his wheels and pushed forward without enthusiasm. "Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live. Oh, take take take it all, but you never give. Should have known you was trouble from the first kiss: had your eyes wide open. Why were they open?"

[Flash to class where Artie is watching the teacher write on the board]

"Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash. You tossed it in the trash, you did. To give me all your love is all I ever ask." Tina passes a note to him, but it's Mercedes' name scrawled on the top. "'Cause what you don't understand is I'd catch a grenade for ya. Throw my hand on a blade for ya. I'd jump in front of a train for ya. You know I'd do anything for ya."

[Flash to Artie on the football field looking forlornly up at the bleachers and Tina is noticeably absent from the crowd]

"Oh, I would go through all this pain. Take a bullet straight through my brain. Yes, I would die for you, baby. But you won't do the same." A football bounces off his head and his chair falls backwards as he's crushed by several bodies of the opposition. "No, no, no, no."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"Hey Emma!" Will jogged around the corner and caught Emma coming out of her office. "Are you free Saturday? Because it would mean the world to me if you would do me the very great honor of -"

Emma immediately began panicking, which she did every time Will put his hand to his heart and leaned into her personal bubble. "Oh, uh, Will, uh... I shouldn't... Carl -"

Will shook his head with confusion. "Of becoming our third judge?" He smiled widely.

"Oh!" She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle an excited yelp. However, it took her only two seconds before she reconsidered. "I'd love to, Will, but I'm not sure I'm the right material -"

"Sure you are. We've talked about this before; you've got an excellent ear for talent." Will nodded keenly, causing Emma to blush.

Sue approached from behind and grabbed each of them by the nape of the neck. She found the desire to knock their heads together almost too overpowering. "Are you _honestly_ saying that you and Alma here are my comrades on the panel? My _God_! How are we to uphold the label of a triumvirate of tyranny with you lily-livered poltroons on the frontline? People don't want cookies and a pat on the head; they want fear, anguish and a kick to the coin purse or coin slot."

"Sue!" Emma looked appalled.

"Even that Berry child would make a superior judge given her aggressive, self-righteous, conceited, vainglorious attitude; it's the one thing I _actually _like about her."

"Uh, I already told her no, Sue," Will admitted.

[Flashback to choir practice]

Will grinned. "Welcome to..." He pulled back the sheet to reveal a sign roughly thrown across the piano: "'McKinley Idol'."

"Mr Schue?" Rachel raised a hand.

"No, Rachel, you can't audition."

"But I honestly believe -"

"No."

Rachel scowled and glared. "I'm sorry Mr Schuester, but you just worked your way from thirteen down to twenty-nine on my Grammy acceptance speech list. However, a better place might be achieved if you choose to use my skills to -"

"Judge? No. Sorry, Rachel." He shook his head.

"Fine -" she pulled out her trapper-keeper and a glitter pen and began feverishly crossing out Mr Schuester's name "- you're now two below Ms Castle... who negligently ran me over in the parking lot last week, claiming I was too short to be seen over the hood of her car."

[Flash to present]

"Emma's a _great _addition," Will mollified. Emma blushed. "After all, there can only be one Sue Sylvester." Against his own better judgment, he clicked his fingers, pointed at Sue and winked.

Sue looked impressed by his words and tugged at her collar with pride. "Well I'm glad you finally realized that, Willbo." She checked her watch and slapped her colleagues on the back. "T minus twenty-two hours, people. Get ready and get ready good. Now excuse me. I have to call my orthodontist and order me up a 'predator'. See you on the 'morrow, plebeians!"

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

Rachel brought her schoolwork up to her chest and sneaked in between Quinn and the open locker door. "I believe it would be a prudent move for us to acquire boyfriends," she whispered.

"You're breaking up with me?" Quinn looked aghast. "_Already_? First Tina and Artie and now us? Is there some kind of weird pact going on between all of you? Has Santana asked you to go single in order to make Brittany lose Finn?" She frowned and poked Rachel hard in her osmosis essay. "This is beyond ridiculous."

"Don't be absurd. I have no desire to cease our courtship. We merely need boys to mask our..." She looked around with suspicion. "We require them to conceal the fact that we might be thinking about engaging in a series of dates."

"Come on, Rachel, this is ludicrous. First you ask that we continue fighting so that everyone thinks we're enemies; now you're asking that I pick up some boy and use him as a shield against questions about us?"

"I just don't think that we're ready to be an out couple. We're _completely _fledgling and entirely unprepared for the jibes and opinion of the general populous of this school. Jacob's already been sniffing around and I'm sure he's wise to our situation."

"So your answer is that I start dating the lost Culkin again?" Quinn looked entirely perturbed. "I'm _really_not sure I can go back to anyone who has their own Stargate fanvideo channel on YouTube."

"No, no. I really don't think any boy that we have previously dated would be suitable. The level of expectation would be set far too high." Rachel sucked on her bottom lip.

_'She looks really cute when she stares up at me with those big puppy dog eyes. I should probably tell her she looks like a Furby so she doesn't think I'm attracted to her.'_ thought Quinn, letting her gaze drift over Rachel's features. _'Get a grip, Quinn. That's what the old you would say; the new and improved you is supposed to be her... her...'_

"Perhaps we could meet tonight at seven to... discuss possible suitors?" _'Quinn's looking at me very strangely. Does she have a lazy eye? Perhaps I should give her my optometrist's number,'_mused Rachel. "We could finally attempt one of those dates we talked about. I really -"

Quinn let out a deep, considered sigh. "I can't. I... I'm busy."

"Well, tomorrow at ten thirty am, then?"

"Still can't."

"Family?" Rachel asked, looking quizzical.

"Not sure I have one of those," she dismissed. "Look, I have to go to practice now." For a fraction of a moment, Quinn looked like she was going to lean in and kiss Rachel on the cheek. Instead she pushed her aside and closed her locker door. "We'll talk later."

"But, Quinn..." Too late. She was gone. Rachel looked a little lost, but her enthusiasm was roused when she saw Tina. She marched purposefully towards her, waved and said: "Hi there, Tina. I was wondering whether it would be an issue if I started dating Artie on a completely asexual and essentially platonic basis." Tina burst into tears. "Too soon? I can wait a few days or so if that's preferable."

"I've tried so hard," Tina blubbered through a series of sobs. "Pushed him away. Changed my Facebook status to single. Given back his Blues Brothers DVDs. I've tried ignoring him, but... he still wants me," she uttered incredulously.

"Well that's perfect because I really only want to use him as an accessory; someone to blow kisses at... perhaps to call 'pookie'... I could crochet a nice little pouch to attach to his chair for my books!" Rachel looked a little lost upon noticing that Tina was still crying. Like a robot processing human emotion, she tried tapping Tina on the shoulder to provide some sort of comfort. "Do you need me to have someone draw up a restraining order against him? I've had a few dealings, albeit on the receiving end, since a slight misunderstanding regarding my presence on Celine Dion's private yacht. The courts can create a highly customizable one for you, and you don't necessarily have to prevent a person from entering an _entire _country. I'm told those are _highly _unusual, and, in my case, wholly unwarranted given that the corkscrew was only in my hand for the purpose of prying open a port hole to call for assistance because the twins' au pair had stolen my peach and cream saddle shoes."

Tina shook her head with bemusement. "Rachel. Stop. I broke up with him to protect him. I love being his girlfriend. I love wearing his Titans shirt in bed. I love feeding him Cheez-It crackers and pickles while dressed-up like a whorish dungeon maid. I love it when he takes me on midnight bat trails. I love the way he monitors my eBay watch list and makes last minute killer bids on my behalf. I even love disassembling and oiling his chair while he takes part in a twenty-four hour Final Fantasy XI marathon in his Samurai robes, which I _honestly_ thought would drive me crazy. But most of all I miss spending time with him because _I love him!_"

Rachel pulled out a pack of heart motif tissues and handed one over. "I really don't see why you -"

Tina bit her lip. "It's a huge mess, Rachel." With a sigh, she admitted the secret that she'd kept from everyone. "My dad got arrested for fraud," she said in hushed tones. "He didn't do it. I know he didn't. But the lawyers say he has no case. If he goes to prison, I'm being forced to leave Lima. I don't have any choice; me and my mom will have to live with my aunt, uncle and thirteen hellishly-annoying cousins who think I'm a devil worshiper because I have chains on my boots and like graveyards." Tina pulled at her sleeves uncomfortably. "I've been trying to push Artie away so he won't get hurt; I'm not ready for him to know that I'm leaving."

"What?" Artie said with disbelief, wheeling around from behind Tina to look up at them both. "Tina, why didn't you say?"

"You see..." Rachel shook her head and pointed sharply at Artie. "This is exactly the situation where a restraining order would have come in useful. It would have prevented our conversation being overheard." She nodded sagely, watching Tina and Artie staring dumbly at each other. "Is it still too soon to enquire about Artie's availability for boyfriend duties?"

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

Despite not being a part of the Cheerios, Santana still tagged along when she had nothing better to do. "So are you gettin' jiggy wid' it, yet?" she asked with a half interested pout, walking alongside Quinn. They reached the changing rooms and sat on benches opposite each other.

"Pardon? Jiggy with what?" Quinn pulled back, a deep frown gracing her forehead as she unclasped her watch and pushed it into her bag.

"_It_. Y'know... Cousin It... E.T." Santana stuck her chin out and swayed her head from side to side. "Alf?" Quinn continued to look puzzled so Santana decided to lay it out straight. Using her good arm, she tapped out each word on her plaster cast. "Have you had sexy times with the little Jewish alien?"

Quinn sighed with agitation. "Rachel Berry and I are not an item."

"Oh, come _on_. Don't spin me that. You haven't been the same since Mr Schue asked you to do that thing to Berry in Rocky Horror. Hold your cross and don't lie this time," Santana challenged.

Quinn paused and pouted. Sitting primly with her hands on her lap, she looked away. "Fine. We're sort of together, but it's a secret," she susurrated.

"Yeah, well if I was getting all lesbionic with the Berry, I wouldn't want anyone to know either."

"Don't be homophobic," Quinn said unsurely.

"Homophobic?" In a gesture of admonishment Santana clicked her fingers in front of Quinn's face. "Sugar, I'm homo_aerobic_. So don't try to use that one on me. This isn't about sexuality; it's about you hiding the fact that you're dating the wannabe Streisand child."

With a sad laugh, Quinn looked at the floor. "It's not me that wants to keep this hidden. It's Rachel. She's ashamed of our... whatever it is we have."

Santana chuckled. "Wow. That's a surefire way to get you back for all those times you bullied her."

"I bullied her because I care about her," Quinn spat back with a icy stare.

"Whoa. You really -" Santana looked Quinn up and down "- _like_ her?" Incredulity was an understatement. Her face crunkled with disbelief. "I thought this was some grand scheme to _break_ her? I _totally_ had the wrong end of the gay stick. So you _do _actually find her attractive?"

Quinn looked at the floor and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You do know that when she gets famous, the only spread she'll get offered will be the centerfold of Playboy's _braille _edition. The poor guys reading will think they've picked up Martha Stewart Living." Santana physically shuddered at the notion.

"It's not like when I've liked the guys... it's... freakish," Quinn attempted to explain.

"I agree but I'm still, like, huh?" Santana's lip curled.

Quinn licked her lips in contemplation. "Well... Puck was... alcohol attractive."

Santana nodded. "Nice distraction from life. Not all that good for you. Often leads to doing something you regret. May require bail money."

"Finn was like chocolate."

"Sickly in large quantities. Gives you images of being a housebound, fat, cankled wife."

Quinn pressed her right forefinger to the pad of her left middle finger. "And Sam was like a popsicle."

"Looks cool, but ultimately you just end up with a stick of wood that you can barely be bothered to walk to the trashcan for and so you just stick it in some girl's hair." Santana pouted sagely and folded her arms.

"But Rachel -"

"Yeah?" Santana encouraged.

"- is like fruit." Quinn looked disappointed with her own analogy.

"Fruit?"

"Yeah. Fruit." She nodded.

"Fruit?"

"Yes! Fruit!" she exclaimed so loudly that four Cheerios fell back against their lockers in fear.

"I don't get it." Santana shook her head as Quinn grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her off to a quiet corner.

"Fruit," Quinn repeated in a low hush, her ponytail swaying from side to side. "Y'know... is something I look at and assume I want all those other things, but, if I'm honest, those other things aren't what I want. All I want is... fruit." Her look glazed over and her cheeks flushed.

"So, on that note, to repeat my earlier question... have you been adding Berry to your Cheerio bowl?" Santana ran the tip of her tongue along the sharp edge of her front teeth suggestively.

Quinn's eyes widened. "Will you _stop_?"

"What? I'm just curious. Is she kinky? She looks like she might be kinky." Santana pulled back upon receiving a harsh glare. "Don't look at me like that. You were the one talking about eating Rachel's fruit."

"I did _not_!" Quinn looked aghast.

"So?"

She rolled her eyes and decided not to fuel Santana's desire for information. "We've just... talked," she lied, though it wasn't that far from the truth.

"Naked talked?" Santana looked strangely hopeful.

Quinn's nose wrinkled as she sneered with bemusement. "No. And why are you even interested?"

"Hey, don't blame me for my unnatural interest in your weird fantasies. I'm a sexual wreck. Even the gym equipment is looking _pre_tty good right now. It's all your fault anyway because you smooched Rachel at that stupid party, and so Finn ended up with Brittany. So I've got no curves to kiss up on." Santana pouted and scowled at once, which was a particular skill of hers.

"Don't try and make me feel guilty for your lack of naked Barbie roleplay sessions."

"Oh shut up, Q." Santana swallowed hard and suddenly looked a little guilty. Brittany strolled by and gave them both a cutesy wave. "Hey, look, Quinn, if you ever wanna, y'know, talk... I do... sorta get it. Not the Rachel thing, but I get _it_."

"Yeah, uh, thanks." Quinn sighed. "I think."

"Do you, like, wanna hug or something?" Santana asked awkwardly, looking at the floor.

"That depends," she replied with a raised eyebrow. "Are you going to get off on it?"

"I guarantee nothing," Santana replied honestly.

Quinn smiled, but her eyes looked a little perturbed. "I'll pass, thank you."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"So is everyone excited for tomorrow night?" Will pointed around the choir room with a big cheesy grin on his face. "I'll need help from all of you for stage work. Brittany and Finn... I'll need you at the frontline ushering the crowds through. Try to wear matching outfits."

Brittany bounced excitedly and grabbed Finn's hand. "Triple yay."

"Double yuck," Santana sneered under her breath.

"Uhm." Will consulted his notes. "Sam and Mike... on the door ticket sales."

Puck looked around bemused. "I don't see why Ab-central couldn't be extended to another stud, Mr Schue."

"Nu-uh, we don't let the juvieboy at the cashbox." Mercedes waved a finger in his direction.

"Aw, come on, Merc." He pushed his bottom lip forward. "You know I only took that ATM to give the money to the needy. I'm a regular Robin Hood."

"Well if I catch you robbin' ma' hood... I'm go'n... ow! Kurt! Why're you kicking me?" Mercedes looked down at the front row and Tina. "Oh, sorry, Tina. Didn't mean to talk about, y'know, stealin'."

Tina looked up. "You don't have to feel bad, guys. It's not your fault my family is in this mess."

Artie reached over, took Tina's hand and gripped it tight. "If Tina is only in town a couple more weeks or even days... I think we should make the most of it."

"Absolutely," Will nodded. "Tina - I think you're being amazingly strong during this tough time and we're behind you every step."

"Wine cooler farewell?" asked Puck.

"Barbecue?" asked Finn.

"Shopping spree?" suggested Kurt, who then looked amused. "Oh my gosh, we're so stereotypical!" His expression turned to that or mild horror. "That is so, so sad."

"Why are you all shouting defeat?" asked Mercedes. "I say we fight this! If Tina says her dad is innocent, then I believe her. We should find out what's gone on. We don't just lie down and let them take one of our people."

"I agree!" came a high-pitched, excited squeal from the back.

Everyone looked round and stared at Kurt. With an unimpressed pout of his lips, he pointed at Rachel a couple seats away from him. "The _perk_olator is that-a-way."

"You'll have to excuse me. I've had a quadruple double espresso for that just-got-a-shot-of-adrenaline-in-the-heart feeling," a wide-eyed Rachel enthused maniacally. Kurt reached over and extracted a tall coffee cup from her vice-like grip.

"Little excessive, Rachel -" Will looked a bit worried and half-chuckled "- we don't want you bouncing off the walls."

"Don't concern yourself, Mr Schuester. I added a shot of Mary Jane's Relaxing Soda to take the edge off. I feel just _super_." Her left eyelid twitched as she jumped to her feet, paced down the steps, encouraged Will to take a seat, and turned to face the rest of the group. "After Tina informed me of her plight, I realized that I would be more than useful in her fight for justice. After all, we would be remiss if we neglected to help our team member." Tina smiled, touched by Rachel's sentiment. "Especially so close to Sectionals. We can't afford to lose anyone with so little time to fill the slot." Those who weren't aghast at Rachel's inadvertent insensitivity rolled their eyes. Rachel continued unabated: "I've spent from dusk 'til dawn studying crime dramas and listening to Nancy Drew audiobooks. _Thus_ I have discovered the following: the smell of ammonia in a room does not always indicate the presence of urine; janitorial impersonation is usually the best means of infiltration; and _always _flex your wrists upon being tied by the hands so that the bonds are loose."

Santana winked at Quinn coquettishly, but received only a look of contempt in return.

Rachel looked entirely pleased with herself. "I have also purchased a lab coat."

Again, Santana couldn't resist; she tugged at the side of her jacket and thrust her breasts up while licking her lips. Quinn took action and slapped her arm. Rachel looked them over with curiosity.

"I suggest we make our first foray into the investigation as soon as this meeting is over," Rachel continued. "Step one: take cheek swabs from all the employees at Tina's dad's place of work."

Puck raised a hand. "I call shotgun on the women."

"Thank you, Noah." She beamed with pride.

"Rachel, it's very nice of you... I think." Tina winced. "But I don't think there's anything we can do -"

Rachel balled her fists and pressed them against her hips. Shaking her head, she responded: "The plan is simple. Kurt can bedazzle our way in. Quinn can charm them into talking. Santana can interrogate them into confessing. I -"

"Is she saying I play hardball?" Santana asked the group.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and nonchalantly brushed imaginary dust off his military-style epaulette. "She's saying that, given a bad enough day, you'd scare the poop out of Freddy, Jason _and _Jigsaw."

Rachel continued unrelenting: "To raise our game and fighting spirits I'd like to sing a mash-up of the three CSI theme songs, which, for those in the dark, are all by The Who."

"Why is she telling us if she doesn't even know?" asked Brittany.

"This is all very nice and all," Mercedes interrupted just as Rachel opened her mouth to sing. "But there's no way we can go all black ops without some experience at our backs."

"But where do we get that from?" asked Tina innocently.

The door to the choir room flung wide and a woman stepped into the limelight. "Me," she announced to the crowd.

Kurt jumped up and clapped enthusiastically, overwhelmed at the remarkable entrance. "I have no idea who you are, but that was fabulous."

Mercedes ran forward to hug the woman. "Everybody... I want you to meet Delilah Jones. Private Investigator extraordinaire. And my grandmammy."

Delilah, who was essentially an older version of Mercedes, but with braided hair, smiled widely. "Mama's here to help." She pointed over to Quinn and gave a little wave. "Hey there, babycakes. That family of yours been feedin' you?"

Quinn looked a little shy and shifted in her seat; she didn't want Delilah to mention Beth, and she prayed Mercedes had told her grandmother the situation. "Yes, thank you."

"Quinn, Quinn, wafer-thin," she tutted. "You're always welcome at my house; there's always a plate of gumbo with your name on it. That goes for any of Mercedes'... y'know, whatever any of you kids are."

"Delighted to meet you." Rachel stuck out her hand. Delilah looked at the extended limb with disdain. "I'm Rachel Berry," Rachel continued unabated. "If you'd like to take a seat, I will continue with my performance, which I hope will incite the masses and rouse their interest in fighting to save Tina's family from ruin."

"Performance, honey? Well, if that's the way you roll here. Allow me." Delilah shuffled off her coat and threw it at Rachel's face causing her to fall into a nearby chair. Delilah whispered into the ears of the band and a drum roll began. Center stage, with eyes closed, Delilah took a deep cleansing breath and exhaled her first words. "Ask any of the chickies in my pen. They'll tell you I'm the biggest Mutha... hen. I love them all and all of them love me. Because the system works; the system called reci...pro...city! Got a little motto. Always sees me through: when you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you!" She winked. "There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do. You do one for Mama. She'll do one for you!" Her hands rose into the air and she smiled widely. "They say that life is tit for tat. And that's the way I live. So, I deserve a lot of tat." Delilah strode over to Puck and stroked her hand over his mohawk. He shuddered with delight. "For what I've got to give! Don't you know that this hand washes that one too. When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you! If you want my gravy, pepper my ragu. Spice it up for Mama. She'll get hot for you! When they pass that basket folks contribute to, you put in for Mama. She'll put out for you!" Delilah stepped up and pushed her cleavage into a horrified Finn's face. Brittany put her hands out to touch but was denied with a slap. "The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores. So boost me up my ladder kid and I'll boost you up yours! Let's all stroke together like the Princeton crew." Standing beside Artie she encouraged him to make a rowing action. "When you're strokin' Mama, Mama's strokin' you! So what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to? When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you!"

Everyone applauded, Kurt most enthusiastically of all. "That was amazing," he said. "Next week can Rachel's grandmother turn up and sing a number from A Chorus Line?" He shrugged. "Or Next to Normal depending on the state of Rachel's family life at present."

Delilah took the praise to heart and smiled. "Well, lil chickies. Let's work this whole deal out and set Tina's papa free."

Santana smirked. "Before Sara fricken Sidle over there passes out from a caffeine overdose and sleep exhaustion."

A wide-eyed Rachel began rambling with speed. "Remember everyone: "If you're locked in a vault or buried alive - " her words fell on deaf ears as the group gathered around Delilah, so she notched up her volume "- panicked breathing uses up more oxygen than normal, considered breaths." She mimicked her own instruction and three deep breaths later, her eyelids drooped, her head lolled to one side and she slumped back down into her chair and fell asleep.

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

[Audition no.11]

Sue winced at the girl's last note. "Is this a knife I see before me, or are you just painfully sharp?" The girl burst into tears and ran off, her shoes squeaking loudly upon the gym floor. Will looked to Sue, who was sitting to his left and frowned. "What?" She looked taken aback. "I honestly think that last note shattered my glass appendix."

"You can't treat people like that," Will bemoaned.

"Sure I can, my little neopet. It's what I was born for, literally... the Swiss army facility, where I was genetically-engineered, designed me to embody a pure and unyielding desire to crush people's spirits. And you know what? Their experiment was completely successful... almost too successful." She narrowed her eyes. "Unfortunately, the evil gene is also connected to the strand which gives you cravings for blue raspberry toaster pastries, so if you wouldn't mind _pop_ping, ha, out, I'll take a couple boxes. I'll also require a flame thrower for mass toastage. I'd ask you to hold them while I toast up, but the smell of burning chest hair arouses me to an almost painful extent."

Will ignored her request. "You've made everyone, including Figgins, cry, Sue!"

Emma demurely looked up from her notes and leaned forward to look past Will. "We do actually need some contestants in the show, Sue, or it might be a little... bland."

Sue folded her arms and sat back. "Fine, cretins, the next one is yours; I'll let you do _all _the talking."

[Audition no.12]

"I believe I can fly," the young boy groaned in butt-clenching monotone. "I believe I can touch the sky."

Will raised a hand for the music to stop. He tilted his head and waggled his finger in his ear like it had been doused in water. "Uhm, Emma?"

Emma's eyes widened and she clung to the table. "Well, P-Peter, that was just... mm... just very... interesting." She began pinching at the air as if seeking a word to describe a fine wine. "Oh, it's just so... well... perhaps another field would, uh..."

Will decided to help. "You school here, right, and you're in the badminton club? Well that's a really great skill to have..."

Sue pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "I'm sorry, I couldn't keep quiet any longer... " Rapidly, she began to clap. "Bravo! Bravo! Best performance I've _ever _heard." The boy looked utterly delighted, his hand clapped to his chest as he stumbled around in disbelief. "So it's a definite yes from me. Now all you need is a couple of yays from my co-judges and you're on your way." She turned to Will and Emma and smiled like a lizard.

"Did you have to?" Will sucked air through his teeth, watching the young boy get on his knees in supplication. "Peter, you... I can't." He looked back to his co-judge. "You win, Sue."

"What was that?" she turned her ear to him.

"You win. You're the best person for honesty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "I don't have the ability to let people down; well not with the allotted five minutes we've given ourselves per audition.

"Jerry?" Sue beckoned the boy over.

"My name is Peter."

"Your parents got it wrong," Sue informed the boy. "Now. You want this?" Sue asked. Peter nodded. As if in preparation for an explosion, Will covered his eyes and Emma quickly slapped her hands over her ears. "You really want this? Well..." She looked hopeful and grinned like The Joker. Peter clenched his fists tightly and looked at her like he was about receive the best present in the world. "You _can't _have it," she screamed. "And if I ever hear you so much as say 'Hello' in even a remotely sing-songy voice, I will personally rip out your voice box and mail it to Alaska with a note attached saying: 'Please feed to some vaguely hungry bears'. You are an abomination. Passers-by should spit at you and small babies should throw their diapers at your mouth."

"So I'm not in?" he asked, looking like he'd had an arrow pierce his heart.

"You're about as out as Ellen Degeneres." Sue waved the boy off and sat down. "Which reminds me; I need to call old El because she keeps posing as me in order to steal my dry cleaning." She took a swig of her drink, shuffled back her chair and propped her feet up on the desk. "Bitch."

"I really don't know how you do it, Sue," Emma stated, swiftly moving her hands away from Sue's running shoes. "Being rude doesn't come naturally to _me_." Her attempt at derision was met only with a smile from Sue. "I'm not sure I even understand some of the comments you make."

"Well, Bertha -" Sue pulled her feet off the desk, sat up and crossed her legs like she was being interviewed by Letterman "- insults don't have to make sense. You simply need to make sure they're spoken with confidence, clarity and a large quantity of bile and loathing."

"I'm still not sure why you feel the need to be quite so harsh," Emma iterated, adjusting the brooch pinned to her cardigan.

"It's very simple. You have to knock the noodle-limbed kids off the jungle gym in order to enforce those feelings of defeat early. Keep the low down low. After all, if we were all world leaders, there'd be no one to pick the rust barnacles off the undersides of the grills at Wendy's, would there? Now, come on. You try it. Close your eyes." Unsurely, Emma did as bid. "Breathe. That's it. In. Out. Loosen up. Now imagine your elderly, infirm grandmother... got her?" Emma smiled at the memory. "Well, she's just vomited in your _mouth_," Sue yelled. "What is your reaction? Think disgust, think horror, think 'what is this taste of hell itself?'"

Emma grimaced and clutched at her throat. "Repulsive-cheese-monkey-doodle," came the words spewing forth. Her eyes burst open. "Oh! That was quite therapeutic!"

Sue looked a little disturbed. "Maybe you should just make the coffee."

[Audition 18]

"I'll take your part when darkness comes and pain is all around. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down," the young man sang.

"Clay." Rachel suddenly appeared in a chair to the left of the judging panel and raised her hand for the music to stop. "I think you know what I'm going say..."

Clay Aiken's arms dropped to his sides and he nodded solemnly.

"You had your time," Rachel said sweetly and watched him go.

"Rachel!" Will scolded. "Where did you come from?"

"Okay!" she replied. "I'm going. I'm going. I came to inform you that, despite Tina's family not requiring my presence in their bid to exonerate Tina's father - a decision which surely was bred from their desire not to let Mercedes' grandmother feel inferior - my clearly much-needed services will not be at your disposal anyway as I have now brought forward my bi-monthly animal rights meeting and there's cow-shaped cookies to be made. I hope you mourn the loss of my presence greatly." Rachel hurried after Clay. "Mr Aiken! Are you still in touch with Simon Cowell? I think he'd like to hear about me. I can take you somewhere for you to hear me sing, if you like. Do you still have contacts on Broadway?" she asked him as they walked out of the gym hall. "Why is there motor oil on your hands? Is that blood on your shirt?"

"Y'know -" Sue pursed her lips and looked serene "- if the sight of her face didn't make me want to eat my own tongue, that girl'd be quite a worthy ally."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

Delilah perched her half-moon glasses on the tip of her nose and dumped another set of documents and newspapers on Tina's dining table, around which Artie, Kurt, Mercedes, Finn and Puck were gathered. "There's just gotta be something we're not seeing. It's always the way... something right in front of your eyes."

"I really appreciate your help Mrs Jones, but it's no use; we've been looking for hours. If there was anything, the cops would have found it by now." Tina paced back and forth frantically.

"Honey, just 'cause they found eight hundred thousand dollars in an off-shore account, don't mean your daddy's guilty. Don't be frettin' so, or you'll tread through to the basement." Delilah smiled kindly. "What do your instincts tell you?"

"That my dad is too boring... and honest to be a thief."

"Then the answer is here. I promise."

Tina wandered out of the room and left everyone discussing and arguing the possibilities. Sagging down into a comfy chair, she picked up an old photo album and began flicking through. Quietly, she began to sing. "All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for their daily races. Goin' nowhere, goin' nowhere. Their tears are fillin' up their glasses. No expression, no expression. Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow. No tomorrow, no tomorrow." She wiped away a tear from her cheek. "And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad; the dreams in which I'm dyin' are the best I've ever had. I find it hard to tell you 'cause I find it hard to take. When people run in circles, it's a very, very mad world, mad world. Mad world, mad world."

"I'm in!" shouted Artie, pointing excitedly at his laptop screen. "I've always wanted to say that." He grinned. Tina ran through to look at his screen.

"C'mon then, Mitnick, show us your warez," challenged Puck.

"Actually, I think you'll find warez is leetspeak for items duplicated for distribution against copyright law, not terminology for the efforts of hacking," Artie corrected, still tapping away intently. "And it's pronounced like 'wares' not 'war-ez'."

Unable to form a good joke for retaliation, Puck flicked his fingernails hard against the lenses of Artie's glasses. Simultaneously, Mercedes and Delilah both slapped Puck around the back of his head. "Ow," he whimpered.

"Thank you, ladies. Okay," said Artie, readjusting his glasses. "The money stolen was originally destined for an insurance payoff for a burned out factory belonging to 'Zeebo's': a purveyor of chips and nuts. The account was completely controlled by another employee at your dad's company, Phil McConnell."

"Any of you kids ever bought that brand... Zeebo's?" asked Delilah, looking for a show of hands. No one responded. "If a bunch of teenagers haven't heard of a junk food product with a stupid name, then I'm thinking it never existed."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

Rachel clasped her hands together and looked upon the gathering with pride. _'This is the most amazing turnout ever!' _thought Rachel, looking at the audience of two. _'Not including the time that hoard of homeless people came and ate all my homemade sweet potato chips, dips and salad._

[Flash to one of Rachel's previous meetings in which she is surrounded by a gaggle of unwashed and bedraggled people]

"What did you call this again?" growled one of the filthier men, leaning in a little too close for Rachel's comfort.

"Roasted garlic and fava bean pate, Sir," she replied nervously.

"Well it's divine!" he squealed.

[Flash to later that same evening where Rachel is leading the group in singing 'King of the Road']

[Flash to present]

Rachel picked up the microphone. "Hello!" Feedback screeched out of the speakers. "I'd like to welcome you to the twenty-fifth meeting of 'A Voice for the Voiceless'."

"Isn't she awesome?" A young, dark-haired, well-groomed man whispered to Brittany.

"I have no idea how I got here," she replied under her breath. "I think I lead a double life as a spy because sometimes I wake up I strange places." She tugged at her long, belted, wool sweater with curiosity. "I'm pretty sure I stole these clothes from a mannequin at Sears." She held up a sleeve with the tags still on and batted at them like a playful kitten.

[Flash to the women's department at Sears where a group of perplexed employees stand around a mannequin wearing a Cheerios uniform.]

"Again?" the manager cried out.

[Flash to present]

"At the back we have signs ready to be painted up -" Rachel indicated tables at the rear of the hall "- and refreshments by the door. Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring. Now, let's get to it, people!" There was small round of keen applause and Rachel jumped down from the podium. "I don't believe we've been introduced: I'm -"

"Rachel Berry! I know!" The boy smiled widely. I'm just such a huge fan of yours, Miss Berry. Your voice is sublime; it gives me chills... the good kind. I have your videos on alert so I can dive straight on when you post. I even have your rendition of King of Anything set as my ringtone."

"Is this a trick? Did someone send you? I'm I being punk'd?"

"You're Ashton Kutcher?" exclaimed Brittany. "That's a really great disguise." She poked him hard in his thick eyebrow. "Are you kneeling down in there?" she called loudly into his left nostril.

"My name is Blaine Anderson, and I truly am a fan. I leave comments on Rachel's MySpace under the name 'StarKid'... and I'm always positive." Blaine frowned with confusion.

"Oh my gosh, forgive me," Rachel pleaded. "Some of my Glee club associates leave messages like that in order to lure me into a false sense of security. I'm sure it's only because they're secretly envious of my talents."

"How could your Glee club members not love you? You're amazing. You shouldn't let them bully you like that."

Rachel looked overcome and a little tearful. "Will you be my boyfriend?" she sighed.

"Sure!" said Brittany, who was then suddenly distracted by coloring pencils.

"Well," Blaine laughed, "if I were inclined that way, that would be swell, but I'm gay."

"Perfect!" Rachel blurted.

"Uh, that doesn't just mean happy," he smirked.

"I'm well aware of that fact, Mr Anderson."

"Can you not call me that, Miss Berry? It gives me Matrix nightmares."

"Of course, Blaine. And you should call me Rachel."

"It would be an honor -" he smiled widely "- Rachel."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

[Audition 23]

"Why don't you come on over, Val-" the four-year-old bespectacled girl softly sang.

"Hold up, there." Sue held her iPhone up in the air, covered the mouthpiece, and whispered: "Your mom is calling to tell you that she wishes you'd never been _born_."

[Audition 26]

"Goldfinger, he's the man..." sang the hunched-over elderly woman in full gold glitter evening dress.

"Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your singing _suck _quite so much?"

[Audition 27]

"Fly me to the moon. Let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand. In other words, darling, kiss me," screeched McKinley's janitor.

Sue pulled her knee up and grabbed her ankle. "Can you give me a leg up? I'm struggling to reach the _dizzying _heights of your self-delusion."

[Audition 30]

"Cut my life into pieces." The teenage girl looked like she was dry retching the words onto the floor. "This is my last resort. Suffocation. No breathing. Don't give a -"

"Whoa! I need singers like you like I need a trepanned aperture in ma' noggin," spat Sue. Everyone looked at her with confusion. "Which is not at all." The auditionee still looked hesitant. "Please just leave and die."

[Audition 31]

"Out on your corner in the pouring rain. Try so hard to say goodbye," came the mediocre attempt from a disinterested youth, who was shuffling his feet and fumbling in his pockets.

"Do I think you're talented?" Sue shook her head. "No. Do I want to rip off your face and construct a water feature using your hollowed-out antipodean skull?" She looked down momentarily to browse her notes. "Strangely, yes."

"In the interests of anonymity -" Rachel began "- should we be arrested and interrogated, I believe we should employ the use of pseudonyms. Therefore, for the rest of tonight, I am Daisy Gamble."

"In that case I shall be... Dr. Marc Chabot." Blaine smirked because he had caught her movie reference.

Rachel's mouth fell agog. "Incredible." She had found a truly kindred spirit at last. "You remind me of my two dads."

"The '80s sitcom?"

"No. Although my dads did love that show."

"Oh! I see! Fantastic. I'm honored to be compared to your parents, who must be wonderful, considering the amazing girl they raised."

"I..." Uncharacteristically, Rachel was a little speechless.

"Brittany, what will your pseu... fake name be?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel Berry," Brittany replied without a second thought, not looking up from her painting of a large-eyed, crying cow.

"Pick another, sweetie," Blaine stepped in. "We don't want to get Rachel in trouble if we're caught and you say you're her, do we?"

"Blaine Anderson?" Brittany looked entirely confused and took another sip of soy milk and another bite of a dairy-free, cow-shaped cookie.

"Don't worry," Rachel interceded. "The name Brittany S. Pierce sounds fake enough as it is."

"Santana says I have the best name for calling out." Brittany plunged her paintbrush into the water and swirled it around. Rachel and Blaine looked at her with curiosity. "Will you guys be my parents now? My mom's never been able to keep count and I'm sure she wouldn't miss me."

"But you only have one sister, Brittany." Rachel frowned.

Brittany shrugged. "I wish Santana were here."

"She'll be at the Cohen-Chang's house, fighting the good fight and aiding Tina."

Brittany stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head. "She's not with everyone else. She said she had somewhere to be..." Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked perturbed. "And I'm sure she hasn't been aiding Tina; she tested clean for that."

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"They're real," Finn called out as he held up a packet of Zeebo's finest, which he had retrieved from the charred remains of the burnt-out building.

Tina, Mercedes, Kurt and Puck leaned out of the ice cream truck's side hatch window. "Looks like a dead end, gee-ma," Mercedes called to Delilah who was sitting in the driver's seat.

Finn approached and poured some of the contents into his hand. "Ooh. Salted pistachios," he said, throwing a few into his mouth.

Tina took the packet from him and examined the back. "This says it should have been eaten by April 4th." Finn shrugged. "1964," she said, looking astonished. "And this says they're not pistachios, they're peanuts... so that green stuff is mold, Finn."

He shrugged again. "They taste okay."

Everyone looked at each other and an unspoken pact whereby they must all try the ancient, gross food began. Delilah came through to the back of the truck and looked aghast. "What is with you kids?" She watched them all making faces of disgust as they held their noses and tried the snack, which the FDA would no doubt quarantine if they knew about it. "You're all like: 'Hey that guys vomiting in the street; let's get a taste of what he's been eatin'," she mocked. "Did all yo' parents drink too much OK soda around the time of your conceptions?"

Despite the scolding, everyone was laughing and having a good time. After a time, Tina stopped giggling and sighed as she watched Kurt quietly wretch into a corner. "I'm really gonna miss you guys."

Kurt dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a tissue and raised an eyebrow. "Surely our findings are positive. After all... who would take out a huge policy on an almost forty-year-old disused building."

Delilah perked up. "Y'know what? Kurt's right." She slapped his butt and he looked shocked. "Something doesn't smell right."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Puck looked guilty.

"Huh, what do you - aw hell naw."

Everyone backed away. "Blame Zeebo," he apologized feebly.

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

[Audition 34]

"I've joined a vampire-love online forum under the name of Randy Sireson," explained Sandy Ryerson, with a large self-gratifying grin. "Get it? Sire...son?" He swept his hands through his extended blackened hair and attempted to pout mysteriously.

"Oh, I love Twilight!" Emma exclaimed with a clap. Sue shot her a look of pure despair. Will looked at her with complete bemusement. Even Sandy looked a little perturbed. "Uh, by which I mean, the time of day... just before dark."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Uh, good to see you, Sandy," he lied.

"_Ran_dy," he correctly in a sultry, wet whisper.

Sue growled. "If I had ovaries, I'd be gouging them out and flambéing them... on a skewer... over the red hot ashes of my newly-expelled womb."

"Music!" Sandy called across the room and clicked his fingers. An unexpected beat began. Emma tapped her foot to the rhythm. "I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons babe," he sang, rumbling his fingers over the buttons on his leather vest. "But you keep frontin'. Sayin' what you gon' do to me. But I ain't seen nuttin'." He began rolling his tongue over his lips and letting his hair swish about his shoulders. "Typical and hardly the type I fall for. I like it when the physical don't leave me askin' for more." Emma threw her clipboard up in front of her face as Sandy pushed his hands over his crotch. "I'm a sexy mama who knows just how to get what I wanna. What I wanna do is bring this on ya. Back up all the things that I told ya."

"Whoa," Sue raised a hand and the music stopped. "However much I approve of beings that ex-sanguinate the unfortunate in the night, that performance sucked, bit and drained the blood from my face. And not in a good way."

"I think Sandy should go through," Will nodded keenly then spoke out of the side of his mouth to Sue. "He's not the worst and we need some contestants."

"Fine, fine. Nosfer-awful can go through."

"Fangs for auditioning!" Emma shouted after a happy-looking Sandy, who looked very pleased with herself.

Sue looked at her with disgust. "How's that coffee coming?"

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

Blaine and Rachel walked arm in arm down the alley. Rachel, now wearing a red cloak with hood, swung a large picnic basket on her arm. Brittany followed behind, dragging her heels and looking at the sky.

"So come on, tell me why you asked me to be your boyfriend." Blaine reached down and squeezed her hand. "A boy at school giving you trouble? Gossipers?"

"The latter, if anything." Stopping for a moment, Rachel reached over and adjusted Blaine's bowtie. "I had intended to acquire a man for the purpose of a diversion... from the truth, that is."

"The truth?"

"The truth that I'm a... I'm a..." Rachel tailed off.

"Bagel on a plateful of onion rolls?"

"Yes!" Rachel's eyes widened at the Funny Girl reference. "Oh, how I wish -"

"I was straight?" Blaine offered, his hand on his chest.

She paused for a moment and looked dejected. "Uh. Exactly that, yes. Word for word in fact."

He looked at her curiously. "Can you expl- wah!" A hand had emerged from a darkened corner and grabbed Blaine around the ankle.

"Frank! There you are!" Rachel muttered like a disgruntled 1950s TV housewife.

"Evening, Miss," the raggedy-man replied as he let go of Blaine with an animal-like, possessive snarl.

"Here we go." Rachel set down the basket and folded back the red checked cloth. "This week it's hummus and crackers, cinnamon and blueberry rolls, watermelon surprise -"

"Any of those magical wheat-free sesame treats?" Frank asked hopefully.

"An extra batch just for you," she smiled, pulled out a tissue, rubbed the tip of his nose clean, then tapped it affectionately. "There's also some mouthwash, y'know, just for everyone... as usual. Try not to drink it this time. And some lemon scented towelettes for freshening up. Don't eat those either; remember, if you retain enough, you'll be able to weave them together to make a fetching blanket."

They moved on and Blaine looked dumbstruck. "You're so selfless!"

"I know!" she exclaimed. "And it will make for some wonderful anecdotes in my next autobiography."

"You have an autobiography?"

"Two so far; I have a lot to say. Plus my superb memory enables me to not only recall the lyrics to over three hundred and nineteen songs without prompting, but also remember what my first days in the womb were like. Of course that means 'Rachel Berry: My Life, My Way - The Beginning' initial chapters involve a lot of floating and growing digits."

"That's..." Blaine looked around. "Hey, did we lose Brittany?"

"She'll find her way; she's got that feline ability to navigate her way home. If not, she'll find a dumpster to nap in. Her cheerleading coach, Miss Sylvester, usually does a evening sweep of the town, hosing down the homeless, and by that I mean trying to wash them into the gutter, so I'm sure she'll find Brittany and take her back to the school."

"Sounds just fine to me." Blaine stretched out his hand and indicated for Rachel to lead on. "So, Rachel, tell me more about yourself," he requested, causing Rachel to beam and blush.

Way behind them, Brittany snuggled up to Frank. "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" she asked stroking his stained vest.

#%#%#%#%

* * *

[Audition 47]

Coach Beiste pushed her way through the door, looking flustered. As she pulled her sweater up to wipe the sweat from her pink cheeks, it exposed her My Little Pony undershirt. "Phew. It's like trying to push a herd of dead cows through a field of swans out there. You want the next yet?"

"Yeah, thanks, Shannon." Will nodded. "Let's plow on and get this done."

"Ok, I'll round up... by the way... you got a twosie here." The coach fought her way back outside, then two people emerged in her place.

"Terri?" Will said with surprise. "And Howard!"

"Oh great, my cheerleading arch-nemesis and her well-meaning baboon -" Sue muttered. She turned to Will and, under a hushed breath, said: "Don't worry, I had someone put a miniature pipe bomb in her megaphone last week... and I heard their new routine involves sparklers. Before we know it... k'pow." She winked and double clicked her tongue.

"Do you know that woman-creature out there has people in line hogtied?" Terri pointed towards the exit. "It's simply not acceptable behavior. We weren't provided with water, or any kind of morning-appropriate refreshment. Is a tray of canapés too much to ask? What kind of show are you running here?" Out of the corner of her eye, Terri noticed Emma timidly raising her hand. She chose to ignore it. "There were people doing number ones in Smartwater bottles! I hate to think what receptacle they used for number t-"

"Hi there!" Emma coughed uncomfortably and swallowed. "Now I have your a-uhm-attention, Terri, I need to point out that this is a competition for single people only."

Terri looked instantly affronted, putting her hands on her hips and raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Now that wouldn't be some kind of comment on my martial status, would it? Because -"

"Terri," Will scolded under his breath.

"Oh goodness, no!" Emma looked startled as Terri began moving toward the desk with her finger aimed gun-like at Emma's head. "P-perhaps a duet would be nice, wouldn't that be nice? Yes. So, now you're here - and well done on that; waiting in line and weather and all - perhaps you'd like to sing your song and then you can be on your merry way."

"Bamboo. Music." Terri pulled the sheet music out of her back pocket and thrust it at Howard, who gave it to Brad with an apologetic look on his round, pudgy face.

"We're singing Aretha Franklin and George Michael's 'I Knew You Were Waiting'," Howard explained with a dispossessed pout. "I'm George."

"You know what?" said Will. "I don't even need to hear you both sing. I'm sure you'd be great in the competition."

Emma whispered through the side of her mouth. "Are you sure that's wise, Will?"

"I do. Better the devil you know, Emma. And Howard was in the Acafellas for a while; he's got talent." Terri shot them both a look of contempt. Howard blushed. "Sue, you okay with this?" Will asked.

"Sure -" Sue replied, folding her arms "- if you want your evening to feel like a stage production of 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest'."

"Then that's settled. Terri, Howard, you're in."

Sue gritted her teeth. "Oh dear, someone _clearly _hasn't learned what sarcasm is yet."

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Artie brought the binoculars up to his glasses and focused on the porch of the house opposite where they were parked. "This is definitely the right address, but no sign yet. You sure you'll recognize him, T?"

"Phil? Oh yeah, he was a real skeeze at the company dinner last summer. There's no forgetting that leery, sweaty face." Tina grimaced.

"How did you get this to look so real, Mercedes' grandma?" Finn asked, glancing around the interior and pulling at the handles of the ice cream machine.

"You think being a private detective makes money, honey? Phooey; I gotta live somehow, 'Del-ices' is my main work. I just use the truck for surveillance on weekends." Delilah spied a delighted Puck opening one of the freezer boxes. "Hey, you want it, you pay for it, you hear?" she yelled.

"They should put that on the 'You are now entering Lima, Ohio' sign," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh, oh, there!" Tina pointed at a car moving off. "He's driving away. Go, go, go." The truck purred into life and chugged off after Phil. It was barely a few minutes before they entered one of the most prestigious areas in Lima.

"Jackpot," breathed Kurt as he watched the mansion come into view. "Somebody's been a bad, bad boy."

Puck, who was rooting about in the bottom of his pockets for cash to pay for a Spiderman popsicle, looked up. "Did I hear my name?"

#%#%#%#%

* * *

"There it is." Rachel pointed between the trees. "This dairy calls itself a farm but it's more like a processing plant; they treat their cows abysmally. I think we should -"

"I'll do it," Blaine said suddenly, eyebrows raised in astonishment at his own outburst.

"I know you will; you already made the sign."

"I mean I'll be your fake boyfriend. If it means I can spend more time with you, that is?" He looked hopeful.

"Oh," Rachel exclaimed. "Well I never actually expected you to agree. People usually want to find ways to be away from me."

Blaine looked surprised. "Maybe they just don't see how cool you are."

"I do keep informing them of the fact, but they never cease to attempt to refute any statement given indicating my awesomeness."

"So, come on, what do you need me for anyway? You don't seem like the kind of girl to get brought down by rumors."

Rachel stroked at her lip with her fingertips and looked contemplative. "Today, in the ladies' room, I overhead a pair of girls talking. They... they used the the 'd' word."

"Diva?" he asked innocently.

"I hear _that _one quite often, but I'm perfectly able to take it on the chin. However, on this particular occasion, it was the word that ends in an 'e' and, despite only consisting of four letters, scores fairly well on a Scrabble board."

"Oh, I see, _that _word. It doesn't have to be a mean term."

"There was no mistaking it, Blaine. The word was definitely in used in the pejorative sense."

"Well, you know what girls are like. If they call you names, just brush it off, walk tall."

"They didn't use it in reference to me. They used when speaking about my... my..."

"Girlfriend?"

"Um," she swallowed, "yes, but not just a friend-girlfriend -"

"A _girlfriend_-girlfriend," Blaine smiled knowingly. "It's all right, Rachel. You probably didn't realize it at the time, but I did understand your answer to the whole wish-you-were-straight thing. You can talk to me. So... this girlfriend of yours, they called her the 'd' word and meant it to be derogatory." He squeezed Rachel's hand. "Does she know?"

"No! I simply told her that we should get boyfriends to -"

"Isn't that kind of insulting?" Blaine asked honestly, his lip curling.

"I... I'm just trying to protect her."

"If she's your girlfriend, I'm guessing she's got her head on her shoulders. It's her decision to make. Right now she probably thinks she's not important to you, and that you want a boyfriend for social status."

Rachel considered his statement and realized how it must have sounded to Quinn's ears. "It doesn't matter anyway. Santana's been making eyes at her all day, and I'll be dropped soon. They're probably together right now." Rachel looked hurt; jealousy pinched at her heart and caused her to wince.

"I think it's best if I don't pretend to be your boyfriend after all, Rachel." He put a crooked finger under her chin and pushed up just a little. "But I'll be your friend. Now let's get on with our grand plan, and maybe we can make your -"

"Quinn. My girlfriend's name is Quinn." Rachel smiled widely.

"Well let's go make Quinn proud."

#%#%#%#%

* * *

To the gang, it seemed like forever since they'd seen Phil enter the decadent house. Delilah was on watch and taking photographs while everyone else lolled about in the back of the truck, tossing coins into an empty snow cone positioned between Artie's thighs.

_''This feels incredibly wrong, and yet so right,'_ mused Artie as a coin pinged off his belt and into the cone. _'Like I'm a really cheap stripper.'_

_''When I live in a neighborhood like this, I'll have various artists and fabulous designers who adore me, and my creative team shall be known as the 'Haus of Hummel','_ Kurt considered. _'Actually, scratch that; it sounds a little too third reich-ish.'_

_'I really shouldn't be pervin' on Mercedes' grandma.'_ Puck pouted. _'Gilfing is so wrong. But -'_ he raised an eyebrow _'- I'm not afraid of my sexuality. Everyone is beautiful. Forty years' experience could blow my mind.'_ He nodded to himself self-assuredly. _'And there's only so many women left who don't wanna shoot me in the balls.'_

_'What would you do-ooh-ooh for a Klondike bar?'_sang Mercedes in her head.

_'God, I love these guys,'_ thought Tina._ 'I don't wanna go. They really care. I mean... look at Finn's face; he's really concerned about my predicament.'_

Finn chewed on his bottom lip. _'Need to pee. Need to pee. Don't think about it. Think about something else. Clouds. Stars. Brittany. Singing. Pee. Pee. Pee. Damn, I need to pee real bad.'_

Suddenly Delilah dived out of sight, taking the binoculars with her. Under her breath, she said: "Duck, buttercup!"

"Oh crap," whispered Tina as she swiftly sank down and crouched in front of Artie's knees.

"This is all getting a little Scooby Doo for me," Kurt whispered under his breath, hugging the wall so as not to be seen.

"Don't get too freaked out -" Puck smirked "- no one wants to be clearing up your Scooby snacks if you have an accident in your underpoopers," he jibed.

"Eww," Kurt cringed.

"I'll take a Hyper Stripe." The figure of Phil McConnell appeared at the hatch and pulled a roll of dollar bills out of his pocket.

Artie sat there dumbstruck, unable to speak, entirely aware of Tina's eyes at waist height and also the sensitive predicament they were in. Mercedes quickly sidled into view with a large smile, and timidly passed the popsicle over to him. "A little red, white and blue for you," she said unsurely. Phil gave Artie a confused stare. "Don't mind him -" Mercedes explained "- he just had one too many sour watermelon screwballs and now his gums are all numb." Artie nodded in wide-eyed agreement.

Phil looked down at the money-filled cone between Artie's legs, gave him a disturbed look, then tossed a couple of bills over and walked away. "Phew," Artie sighed.

"Oh my," Kurt exclaimed behind his hands. "That was excruciatingly exciting. Uh, where's Finn?"

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Rachel and Blaine held their protest signs high and marched in a very small circle outside the dairy plant's offices.

"What do you mean you haven't had a date with her yet?" asked Blaine incredulously.

"There hasn't been a suitable occasion." Rachel shrugged. "We mostly meet between classes. Even then there isn't exactly any conversation as such," she said, looking a little shifty. "More... silent, above the collar bone, heated embraces, which, although exhilarating, are hardly a wonderful basis for anything solid."

"A whole lot of making out does not a relationship make." Blaine looked disappointed for his newfound friend.

"Precisely!"

"So you can find time to cook a banquet for the alley-dwellers, but you haven't even had a meal with Quinn?" He frowned with confusion.

"She's busy an awful lot. What with being head cheerleader, and I'm -"

"Wow." Blaine's mouth fell agog. "You're the captain of the Glee club and you're dating the head cheerleader? That's a huge deal. That's like High School Musical romance awesome."

"I... I hadn't really considered that fact." Rachel mulled it over, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. "She's the prettiest girl in the school, and highly popular. But for a very long time we fought terribly, mostly over a boy, and after her pregnancy she finally realized what an amazing person I am and -"

"Oh, wait, you just had to throw a little Lifetime in there. She had a baby?"

Rachel nodded. "Who is now being raised by my estranged mother."

"That's intense. If the baby's yours I'm calling SyFy for a three season deal," he smirked.

"Oh, you." She playfully slapped him on the arm and realized that Blaine had showed a considerable amount of interest in her, but she hadn't yet asked him a question. "So are you currently in a relationship?"

"I'm still saying no to being your beard, Rachel."

"Oh, no! That was an entirely bad plan anyway; I don't think I could bear seeing Quinn on anyone else's arm. No, I was asking if you currently had a boyfriend."

"Not right now. I liked a few guys, but they're were mostly straight. You'd think that attending an all boys school would give me better odds, don't you think?"

"All boys? Which school is that?" she asked with interest, leaning on her sign, which had been painted by Brittany and read: 'Beefs have souls.'

Blaine was about to reply when a suited man emerged from the side door. "Leave or I call the cops," he threatened.

"Mr -" Rachel read his badge "- Eyrich, we have come here to protest against the poor practices of your company, and we fully intend to stay until we see you shut down. This kind of evil should not be permitted. No animal should be imprisoned like this. How would you like it if I perpetually pumped you full of hormones and plugged you into a machine to extract your milk on a daily basis?"

"I'd like it just fine... if I were a damned cow." He tutted.

Rachel produced a wodge of papers, held them up and flapped them in his face. "Here I have a petition that is ready to hold _thousands _of names. Admittedly, at present, it has five, but I will knock on every door in this town until I reach my goal." Eyrich laughed at Rachel and she looked simply aghast.

Blaine stood behind her and held her by the shoulders. "Don't simply sneer and laugh at her," Blaine demanded. "Listen to what she has to say!"

"Look here, I don't care. This is work; this is what we do. The system works just fine." Eyrich pulled out his phone and began tapping in the number for the local police.

"If you feel that way, then we'll just have to go drastic." Sternly, Rachel turned and covertly handed something covertly to Blaine. "And since I don't have the means to clamp one of your own devices to your nipples and lock you in a room for a week, I will just have to settle for making your suit messy."

There was the sound of a closing door, and then a soft, breathy voice called out: "Mr Eyrich, I was wondering if you -"

Just as Blaine and Rachel threw the tubs of white paint, Rachel realized who the voice had belonged to. "Quinn!"

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"Hey, Terri, how's the, uh, rehearsal going?" asked Will, stroking his tie nervously and smiling a little too widely.

"I have a problem. Howard is currently coughing up blood and may have pneumonia."

"That's terrible. Is he gonna be okay?" Will asked with concern.

"Oh, I don't know. I didn't want to enter the men's restroom so I left a post-it note on the door requesting that someone call 911. The hacking made me feel nauseous, so I had to come back to the stage."

"I should go check -"

"The only reason I'm still standing after those terrible conditions out in the cold is I had the mind to make Howard give me his coat to put over my own. Is it really my fault if he didn't think to bring more than two layers of clothing? No. And now I'm without partner."

"You could go on alone Terri. You've got a great voice."

"Will... you know I can't face an audience on my own. Not after that debacle with Siegfried and Roy."

"I have to admit... that lion was definitely different after that day," Will muttered.

"So until I find a worthy replacement, you'll have to rehearse with me." Terri approached and held onto Will's arm tenderly. "Please. For old time's sake."

"I don't know, Terri." He sighed. Something inside him still had trouble resisting her charms. "Maybe... what's the song?"

"Excellent. How about 'Love The Way You Lie Part 2'? It's sung by Rihanna and that Matthew Mathers boy who seems to have been named after the chocolate candy and also something that sounds like a dieting plan. Do you know the tune? I can hum if need be."

Will looked disappointed and took a step back. "I know what you're doing, Terri. You think if I sing _that _song with you, it will ignite something in me. That it would remind me that, although I hate you, I love you too. Well I don't need reminding of that fact, Terri. I just don't!" He stormed off.

"But, Will, I..." Terri looked forlorn and her shoulders slumped. "You still love me?" Tears appeared in her eyes but she quickly dabbed them away with a tissue and regained her composure.

"Hey." Coach Beiste popped into view. "I just found your partner half-dead and propped up on a toilet. Did you know about that?"

"Sorta. Hey, what were you doing in the men's room?" asked Terri with a large fake smile.

"Keeps me on the same level as the men in this school. Plus I find peeing sitting down demeaning," she replied with a casual shrug, causing Terri to look a little disturbed. "You okay?"

"Perhaps you could help me..." Terri sauntered forward. "I have a crippling fear of performing alone, but I could really do with some applause right now."

"You want me spray the audience with some kind of disorientatin' chemical so they don't know it's you?" The coach frowned.

"No, though thank you for the offer, but what I need is a new partner."

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Quinn stood and glared, a gloss of thin white liquid coating her hair and dripping down her cheeks and employee uniform. "Rachel... why?"

Eyrich, also completely covered, fumed. "You know these people?" he asked, his fists tightly balled. Running his hand through his slick hair, he shook his head, splatting paint around him. "Great start, Quinn, great start," he spluttered sarcastically. "I'll see you in my office immediately." He stormed off.

"It's water-based, don't worry. I... Quinn -"

"Don't talk to me, Rachel; you've made this bad enough as it is." Quinn turned and walked away. Just before she entered the building, she turned back to say one last thing: "And what the _hell_are you doing a boy from Dalton?"

"I don't -" Rachel turned to Blaine and looked at the badge he was wearing: it had a picture of a bird on it. "Is that a Warblers pin?"

"Sure is. Is that a problem?" he asked.

"Naively, I just thought you were an ornithology fan." She took a deep breath. "I just have a history of causing a ruckus in the McKinley glee club every time I consort with a singer from a rival club. They'll assume you're a spy."

"Oh, we don't have to spy; we'll beat you without knowing any of your secrets," he uttered smugly. "I'm a pretty amazing singer."

Rachel reached out her hand and Blaine shook it. "Nice to meet you, Blaine, I look forward to crushing you at Sectionals."

"I look forward to watching you try... and fail." He grinned. "Now... let's get that plan together."

"Plan?"

"You just threw paint over your girlfriend."

"Normally I'd think that was a problem, but arguing forms a great part of my relationship with Quinn; we've slushied each other many, many times."

Blaine looked bemused. "What on earth is 'slushied'?"

Rachel's eyes lit up. "If I dress up as a boy, can I join your school?"

"Only if you don't mind losing out on all the solos to me." He winked.

#%#%#%#%#%

* * *

"What _is _he doing?" asked Tina. They all watched Finn emerge from the bushes and zip up his jeans.

"It's called taking a leak," mocked Puck, which led to Artie backing his chair over his foot. "What the... will people stop hurting me?"

Mercedes put her hands on her hips. "Not until you stop being douche-y."

Finn skipped his way across the lawn outside the mansion, running towards their ice cream truck. Off in the distance, the team could see McConnell about to re-emerge from his house. Frantically everyone jumped around and waved at Finn through the hatch of the truck, indicating that he should run right and hide before being seen. He just smiled and waved back.

"Hand me that plastic cone with the cute face on it," requested Puck. He received a set of surprised stares. "What? I can't think something's cute? Jeez. Come on. Time's a wastin'." Artie grabbed the item and passed it over. "Clear the way," Puck instructed. He breathed deep, drew back his arm and threw the cone out of the window. It went whistling through the air. Everyone held their breath, praying for Finn to go into football mode. It seemed to take forever to get to its destination. Finn's eyes narrowed as he followed the missile's line of sight. Instinct kicked in and he sprinted off to his right and out of the view of McConnell. They let out a group sigh. That is until they noticed that McConnell was headed towards to the truck, clearly with the intent of asking why the hell they were still parked up outside his house.

Kurt looked perturbed. "Mrs Jones? I think it's time to put the twinkly music on and, to use a common idiom, get the hell outta dodge."

The engine started up immediately and Tina and Mercedes pushed open the rear doors of the truck. Finn jumped in just as the truck moved off. "Whoa," he said, catching his breath.

"Do you think we could report McConnell and have him investigated?" asked Artie.

"Owning a second home just makes him successful, honey. It don't mean he did nothing," Delilah called through from the driver's seat.

Finn looked sheepish. "I'm pretty sure I just committed a felony, but maybe this will help -"

"What you do? Pee in his gas tank?" asked Mercedes.

"Nope. I stole his mail." Finn scratched at his head. "I don't really know why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time." He handed it over to Artie, who flicked through the envelopes. "I'm guessing he only uses the house on weekends, cos there was a full week's worth in there."

"Reader's Digest, 'O' Magazine - oh, Oprah, girl, you got a wrong'un in your readership - uhm, a letter addressed to Mr Zeebo, ooh buy one get one free pizza... did I just say Zeebo?"

"Oh, man, Finn, you did it!" Mercedes yelped.

Artie continued. "And here's another letter addressed to Microdot Industries... they burned down last week! How has this jerk been going under the radar for so long?"

"Framing my dad, that's how," said Tina. "Thank you, Finn." Finn held his hand out for a hi-five and she just looked at it. "We just watched you get your dingaling out and take a wizz in public, Finn. I would like to thank you, though." She jumped up and wrapped her arms around Finn's neck to plant a kiss on his cheek.

#%#%#%#%

* * *

"What in the hell am I doing here during Primetime?" asked Santana with a growl. "This isn't me. I should never have to look at this place after school's out, let alone the weekend. It's like spit-swapping with your family members; you just don't go there."

"I though you said we were like sisters?" asked Brittany innocently, who was now wearing another set of entirely different clothes.

"Different, Britz. We don't share genes," she said, struggling to pull on a cord with only one working hand.

"But I've borrowed your pants sometimes... and your underwear when mine goes missing..."

"Girls." Emma's eye twitched as she demurely tried to direct Santana and Brittany in the hanging of the sign. "You're doing a wonderful job there, just wonderful, but it just needs to be a touch to the..." But they were already on their way down their ladders. "Just a... I... uh... it's -" she coughed.

Will came up behind her and gazed proudly up at the sign. "Perfect."

"Uh, yes." Emma nodded. "A little... ish... but perfect. Mmhm," she added with a grimace. "Abso_dutely_," she forced out with a raised fist and half a laugh.

A now clean Quinn paced behind the stage curtain and Santana and Puck followed her. "What's up, Q?" asked Santana, hurrying after her.

"Rachel got me fired!"

Rachel, who was speaking to Mr Schuester, ran over upon seeing Quinn for the first time since their altercation. "Quinn!"

Quinn put her hand up and indicated for Rachel to zip it. "I needed the job, Rachel! Why do you always have to interfere and make everything go wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Quinn, but I have to stand by my beliefs and that place is wicked. Besides, you don't need the work."

"Yes I do!"

"But you said your dad was still supporting your family."

"I lied. We're all just keeping up appearances. We can't even afford the upkeep of the house. He's left us with nothing and we don't even know how to reach him and his floozy. I was going to have money coming in and it was going to keep us afloat... I can't even..."

"Will Frannie have to come home?" Rachel asked quietly.

"No... my sister's got a job at Hooters." Quinn glowered and cringed..

Puck's ears pricked up: "Which state did you say her college was in?"

"Shut up!" They both shouted at Puck.

"I _knew _there was a reason they put the word omen in women," he said as he mooched off.

"I think I'll leave you girls alone," Santana said with a smirk. "But all this sexual tension is just amazing to me," she added with a chuckle before leaving.

"Is Santana all right?" asked Rachel.

"Ignore her; no one's tapping her libido and she's gone a little delirious."

"Why didn't you say anything? I could have helped."

"I have such a thing as pride," Quinn blurted, and then regretted it.

"I apologize for suggesting boyfriends; it was foolish."

"You seemed to find one pretty fast. Tell me, Rachel, why are they always in a rival club?"

"Perhaps because people around here don't appreciate me?" Rachel tightened her fists.

Quinn looked hurt. "I appreciate you! I just don't know how to... talk to you, like, real talking, like, being myself around you," she sighed.

"I've arranged with Mr Schuester to let us control the lights together. We'll get to be alone and we'll also get a great view of the competition. Will you say yes?"

"Say yes to what?" Quinn tilted her head to one side.

"Joining me. It could be our first date. I'll provide food, drinks, and the show will bring itself." Rachel waved towards the stage.

"I'm still mad at you." Quinn's eyelashes fluttered. "However, that sounds very -" she wanted to say 'nice' "- acceptable."

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Eight songs in, and the final performance was about to take place. Terri breathed out and shook her arms. Across the other side of the stage, Coach Beiste pulled at her tight shirt collar and cracked her neck left then right.

Figgins, who'd added a slim, glittery tie to his normal tweed suit ensemble, took the microphone clumsily. "I'd like you to put your hands together in a back and forth clapping motion and give a warm welcome to -" frowning, he read from the cue card word for word "- Terri Schuester, well, Del Monico now, and don't think I'm happy about that, whatever-your-name-is, I'm not. Also starring the woman who coaches your football team. I didn't listen to her name." Figgins incited the quiet audience to clap and exited stage right.

The music began and Terri, wearing a slinky black dress, walked on nervously. For a moment, she looked to the side and sang to Will. "Who knows what tomorrow brings. In a world, few hearts survive."

Coach Beiste, looking dapper in full suit and bootlace tie, joined her on stage. "All I know is the way I feel. When it's real, I keep it alive. The road is long, there are mountains in your way, but we climb a step every day."

Together they looked at each other and sang harmoniously. "Love lift us up where we belong. Where the eagles cry on a mountain high. Love lift us up where we belong. Far from the world we know, up where the clear winds blow."

From the sidelines Kurt didn't know whether to laugh, cry or accept the rising joy in his chest. "This is the gayest thing I've ever witnessed, and that includes a porn version of Brokeback Mountain." Behind him, Artie wheeled in looking sorrowful.

Will looked around and everyone prepared for the worst. "So?" he asked with a wince.

"It's no good." Artie shook his head.

"Sorry, dude," Puck patted him on the chest and Brittany ruffled his hair gently.

"We tried and there was nothing I could do to help," he continued. "But Tina's going to... _stay_!" His eyes went bright with delight as he directed their line of sight to a dark corner from which Tina emerged and gave a bow.

The group ran over and almost knocked her down with enthusiastic hugs on all sides. "Thank you so much, guys, not just for helping free my dad, but for being my friends. I love you all."

"We love you too, Tina." Artie smiled sheepishly.

"Hey -" she counted heads "- where are Quinn and Rachel?" she asked.

"They're setting each other alight," snorted Santana, then rolled her eyes. "I mean they're lighting the stage." She faux yawned.

"You don't need to make jokes then cover then up, Santana. We all know what you mean. Everyone knows they're dating, right?" asked Tina.

There was a grumble of mild agreement and shuffling of feet. "Yeah," said Santana, as she checked her nails, and grimaced at the semi-inspiring tune coming out of Coach Beiste on the stage. "But Rachel doesn't want anyone to know. I think she thinks we're all blind or something. I guess we should back off and let them sort it out for themselves." Everyone looked at her curiously, and she suddenly realized that what she was saying was a little out of character. "Weird... gay... freaks," she offered, and to everyone this seemed a lot more normal. Brittany looked at her with a frown and Santana looked away, holding her cast arm to her chest.

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Up in the sound and lighting booth, Quinn and Rachel were sitting on the floor and trying to have a proper conversation; one that didn't involve arguing or simply kissing. "Even when we fight, it just makes me smile inside," Quinn explained. "Do you understand how infuriating that is?" she asked, then ate another strawberry. The irony that Rachel's picnic mostly consisted of fruit did not escape Quinn.

"I assume it's almost as infuriating as when Mr Schuester chooses Mercedes for a solo over me just because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings," Rachel spouted bitterly.

"More."

"Then I'm sorry for that." She swallowed a little fizzy cordial and looked down. "I'm extremely remorseful regarding the loss of your job. It was never my intention, and had I known you worked there, I would never have dreamed of doing such a thing."

"It's okay. It's a horrible place anyway. Besides, it seems so wrong to be lactose intolerant and working in a dairy factory." She watched a smile twitch on Rachel's lips, the new information clearly pleasing her. Leaning over, she peered at Rachel closely. "You've got some... on your face."

Rachel rubbed at her cheekbone self-consciously. "What... what is it? Is it gone?"

Quinn shook her head. "Nope, you've still got a little -" she reached over and gently stroked Rachel's cheek "- cute... just... there."

"All gone?" Rachel smiled, mildly astonished by the flattery.

"I'm afraid not. You're stuck like that. Probably forever."

"Well, you have paint on your forehead. Probably not a forever thing."

"I do?" Quinn asked breathily.

"Yes." Rachel sat up and moved closer. "Just... there." She trailed her fingertips lightly over Quinn's left temple. "I want you to know that I will help you find a job, perhaps in a nice boutique or family restaurant. I think you'll find my persuasive abilities can come in very handy." Quinn smiled back at her gratefully. "I may not act like I give a damn about other people, but I do. I just have to make _me _a priority, but so should you."

"I always do," Quinn whispered into Rachel's ear.

#%#%#%#%

* * *

Figgins stepped out, requested a drum roll from Finn and strutted his way past all the contestants to center stage. "I have the judges' decision here," he said into the microphone and waved a gold card. Patiently, he waited for the spotlight that would fly to the winner once announced. Looking to his left he called to Will. "Schue, get the spotlight on!"

"Kurt, run up and get Quinn and Rachel to sort the lights, would you?"

"I can't believe you're asking the muppet baby. He doesn't run, he saunters." Santana sighed. She and Kurt caught each other's gaze and silently challenged each other to a race. They both bolted after one another.

Finn was waning, his arms tiring as he continued to beat the drum. "Principal Figgins, can I stop yet?" he called across the stage.

Figgins spoke through a clenched smile. "Keep going! It's how they do it on these shows; the pause has to be about three minutes longer than anyone can bear."

Kurt and Santana fled up the stairs and over to the back of the auditorium. "Haha. Beat you!" Kurt called, looking back for a moment to watch an angry Santana bare her teeth at him. Not looking where he was going, he fell straight into Blaine's arms.

"Steady there." Blaine smiled as he propped Kurt back up. A long held glance between them had Blaine's radar blipping. "I'm sorry. I know you don't know me, but I can't let you in. I made a promise to Rachel."

"Nice bowtie." Kurt raised an eyebrow and puckered his lips.

"Nice cufflinks." Blaine tenderly picked up Kurt's hand and took a closer look at his adorned sleeve.

"Before you two Disney princes have your first magical kiss and live happily ever gay after... we have to put the _spotlight _on!" Santana shouted, barging past Blaine. She opened the door to find Rachel and Quinn kissing and rolling their hands through one another's hair. In an instant, they pulled apart. "Hey, don't mind me. I'm just here to save the show." Santana marched over to the controls and flicked on the spotlight.

Still on stage, Figgins had begun counting down from ten and had so far reached minus twenty-four. "Twe... yes!" he cried. "And the winner is..." Terri held onto Coach Beiste's hand tightly. Beside them, Sandy clenched his fists and ran on the spot excitedly. "Te...rence Pie and his rendition of Jail House Rock."

"I'm thinking he bribed the judges," Terri whispered to the coach.

"But he's only nine, Terri," Coach Beiste said doubtfully.

Terri shook her head and pretended to wipe a tear of joy away. "I know! Corruption starts so early these days. It disgusts me," she added with a large smile.

Sue strode on stage with two trophies. She pushed the tiniest one into the hands of Terrence Pie, and then held up the enormous one above her head. Pulling the microphone out of Principal Figgins' grasp, she spoke to the clapping audience, who were now applauding less certainly. "I'd like to thank McKinley High for this award for best judge. I'd like to thank my mother for not letting me taste chocolate until I graduated high school, and my dear co-judges for instilling such an intense bitterness in my soul and mouth; you really helped me hate just that little bit more. Terrence, to you I say: good luck out there. Don't forget me when you're rolling around in cocaine and blood and being photographed by paparazzi as the police come to wheel away your cold, naked body." Terrence began to cry. "That's the spirit!" Sue patted him on the head, then wiped her hand on her golden tracksuit. Ticker tape began to fall from the auditorium roof. "I have one last thing to say: God bless, Suemerica!"

"Well at least she's happy." Emma nudged Will's elbow.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod. Terri caught his eye and he could see the sadness in her. "Just a shame there isn't a little more of that to go around."

#%#%#%#%

* * *

[Next time on Glee]  
[Sectionals are here, but Sue's got a plan that could destroy everything for the Glee club]  
Mercedes and Sam tried the gas station door, but it was locked. Through the window, Sue, dressed in oil-stained overalls and a fake mustache, waved sweetly. "Bu-bye!"  
[Puck considers a career in the army]  
"One day in, like, 17 and a half years' time, Beth is gonna knock on my door and say 'You're my dad; what did you do with your life?' and I don't wanna be standing there like a schmuck and say 'Uh, I goofed off a lot, but come in and I'll show you how to flick playing cards into this old hat I found in the gutter'."  
[But everything else is pretty much as it always is]  
Santana looked confused. "Do I need to call Pixar and have them come pick you up? Because you _so_ cannot be real."  
[Or is it?]  
"Losers," Sue muttered under her breath.  
[I guess it is! Turn up and tune in next time for another episode of Glee]  
"Send and Receive?" asked Rachel.  
"No, Serve and Protect."  
"No, that can't be it; it sounds like one of the DVDs my dads don't know I know they own."


End file.
